


Ironbound

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [27]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: FBI, Gen, Major Character Injury (NOT ONE OF THE TEAM), Minor Character Death (Off-Camera), Police Misconduct, Revenge, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Trigger Warnings: (Hopefully) Non-Graphic Mentions of Injuries, s01e11: Ironbound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: September 2018When a New Jersey police office takes his life principle--truth before all--much, much too far and starts executing those who have badly wronged him, the team must track him down before more people die.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s), Kenny Crosby & Hana Gibson & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Tuesday, September 17: Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope all my readers had a happy Thanksgiving. My school gave us the whole week off--bless them--so I had a nice break and got a lot of writing done.

September, on a whole, was probably one of Kateri’s favorite months of the year. After the blazing heat of the summer— _which technically lasts until the 21 st, though Mother Nature often ignores that_—the weather was starting to turn. The leaves started to turn beautiful colors. The number of tourists in the city started to dwindle slowly.

_Yay._

_About time_.

All that was nice, and Kateri definitely appreciated those moments, but her favorite part of September was the Feast of San Gennaro mid-month. The Feast of San Gennaro[1] was an 11-day long festival … _kinda street fair-ish type thing_ … that took place in Little Italy in the Bronx every September faithfully as it had for … _I think this year is number 93._ Massive crowds, how huge depended on the day and time of day, crowded into the area around Mulberry Street for food, fun, and various special events … _everything from food eating competitions … those I don’t understand. What’s the point? Masochism. I can’t imagine the size of the contestants’ stomach aches … to concerts and other live music … some of those are pretty cool … to music competitions … a blood drive, always a good cause_ , and one of Kateri’s favorite events, a Solemn High Mass in honor of Gennaro, the Patron Saint of Naples.

Though Kateri could have passed on the massive crowds that always appeared, sometimes crowding the streets enough to make her claustrophobia kick into high gear, she enjoyed browsing the street-side booths— _always lots of cool stuff to see, even if I don’t want to buy something_ , though she had found multiple presents there, too—people watching at slower moments, and sampling lots of good food, the Italian treats being a favorite, though she also had a weakness for deep fried Oreos.

_One advantage of having a very physically active job … I can indulge in a few more treats without getting fat._

_Goodness knows I’ll be running around chasing leads … or perps enough to burn off a few extra calories._

_And considering I don’t indulge much usually, the Feast only happens once a year, and a few special treats won’t kill me_.

Her appreciation for that festival Kateri largely credited to living in the Little Italy of the Bronx and being friends with Lorenzo and Ernesta— _though I’d been a couple times before I ever moved to Belmont—_ and hearing them talk and listening to the bits and bobs they could her tell her about this food or the history behind this event or that thing being sold always made going to the Feast a lot more informative and more fun. Kateri usually tried to go to the Feast several days every year if her work schedule cooperated … _and we aren’t running around who knows where chasing who knows whom_ , and where possible, on at least one day every year, she would go with Lorenzo and Ernesta.

_I can help schlep stuff and just keep an eye on ‘em._

_They aren’t as young as they once were, and people can get shoved around a bit … accidently … usually … when the crowds get heavy._

_I’ve seen more than a few pick pockets, too, over the last couple of years_. One had made the mistake of trying to pick-pocket Kateri once one year. That hadn’t gone well … for the pickpocket. _FBI undercover agents are one of the about last class of people you want to try that on_. _Hungry kids trying to get money for food … I’ve seen ‘em … them I’ll help._ She’d given several money over the years _. Homeless or starving, that kid dude wasn’t_. She’d turned him over to the police without a shred of remorse.

The diversity of people who always came to the Feast was staggering and fascinating in turn, a rich blend of colors, ages, and languages. Everyone from blue color workers to families to a few people who Kateri clocked as possibly belonging on Wall Street or the like. Everyone from old folks to the youngsters carried on their parents’ shoulders, bright eyes shining with delight and wonder at all the sights and smells. Everything from the familiar sounds of English or other languages Kateri knew … _or knows ish_ … to the sounds of those languages she recognized but couldn’t understand … to those of languages _I’ve got no clue what or where they’re from_.

 _There’s always something new to see_.

And that was half the fun.

* * *

On Tuesday, mid-way through the morning, Kateri found herself trailing Ernesta down Mulberry Street in Manhattan’s Little Italy. Though it was only about 9:30am in the morning, there was already a good crowd of people gathered, browsing at the little stands street vendors had erected up and down the street. _Bloody h**l, it’s already crowded. Did no one go home to sleep?_ If Kateri paused for too long to take a sip from the coffee cup clutched in one hand or to peruse the contents of a stand she was passing—of which there were all kinds, carrying about a wide variety of things as she could imagine … _and I’ve seen enough here to imagine a whole bloody lot_ —Ernesta would get too far ahead, too many people coming between, and it would take Kateri several minutes to search her out again.

 _One of the times in my life when I want to curse my lack of height_.

Trying to find one short older woman in a huge crowd of tall people when Kateri herself was not that tall was … _very annoying_.

After losing track of Ernesta for the third time that morning, Kateri caught up to her at a booth that was selling a lot of colorful cloths. _Handkerchiefs??_ After starring at them for a moment, her mind half-distracted by Ernesta … _haggling? Sounds like that tone of voice_ … in Italian, Kateri realized that the booth was selling fancy scarves. With her left hand, Kateri reached out and gently pinched one, rubbing the cloth between calloused fingers. _Not sure what kinda cloth. Could be silk, maybe. They’re very nice_. Some of the scarves were solid colors—pastels and jewel tones both—while others were multi-colored, while yet others had patterns—dots or flowers or stripes. Many were pretty, in Kateri’s opinion, though there were a handful that were extremely odd, a few whose patterns were absolutely hideous in her opinion, and a few that were so brightly or strangely colored that _they’re prime examples of how something can be so bright it makes your eyes water_.

Pretty things … Kateri liked them—or rather appreciated them aesthetically and liked to admire them—but, aside from the occasional piece of jewelry … _not counting my cross_ , rarely wore them. Her pants suit that she wore to business meetings at work and also to church was the fanciest set of clothing she owned, though _it’s a nice pants suit. Cost me a pretty penny_. Considering her line of work, Kateri prized function over aesthetics, preferring practical clothing, though when she bought fancy clothing, she bought _good_ , fancy clothing.

_No reason to buy the cheap stuff that looks good … for like a day … before it rips or wears or a hem starts coming out._

_Fast fashion junk_.

When it came to pretty things, Kateri preferred decorations. Nice artwork, the bead work and quill work of her people. That was aesthetically beautiful. It had more of a purpose, and _it doesn’t cause some men to forget where their eyes are supposed to be starring_. A plain and unassuming woman generally, whose features rarely drew attention … _unless my scars are visible_ , Kateri did clean up nicely. She had no objection to wearing pretty, feminine clothing, though she rarely did. She just didn’t like how men, and the occasional woman, ended up starring. That just made her uncomfortable.

 _‘m not a piece of meat_.

_But now you’re falling down the rabbit hole._

_Mind back on the festival_.

Ernesta finished her haggling, _success apparently_ , and two pretty scarves were packed carefully into tissue paper and tucked away in a plastic bag. _On to the next booth. I’ll want something more to drink soon_.

The buzzing of her phone in her pocket cut off Kateri’s thoughts from plans for the morning. It could be junk, a random robocall telling her the Macbook she didn’t have had a virus or that she was in trouble with the IRS, a wrong number, or any number of things.

But Kateri had a feeling.

It had been a text buzz, not a call buzz, too.

She shifted her coffee to her other hand and pulled out her phone.

 _Yep. It’s work_.

After a nice break, for which Kateri was glad considering it had allowed her to enjoy a good chunk of the festival, it was time to go back to work.

 _We’ve got a case_.

“Work?” Ernesta asked, tucking the bag over one wiry arm and hiking her purse further up her shoulder.

Kateri nodded, quickly typing out a reply and then slipping her phone back into her pants’ pocket. “Yep, case, so I’d better run. Sorry I can’t stay longer.”

“Don’t worry, dear. Thank you for keeping me company.”

A genuine smile crossed Kateri’s face, lighting up her eyes and making her seem several years younger than she usually looked, “My pleasure. I always have fun.”

“Make sure you drop by the bakery once you get home,” Ernesta enjoined in parting, “We’re thinking of trying out some new recipes soon. Lorenzo and I will say a prayer for you at mass.”

_New recipes?_

_Oooohhhhhh_.

Now Kateri’s eyes really lit up, “Oooh, I shall. Thanks.”

* * *

With a smile and a wave back over her shoulder, Kateri headed off south down Mulberry Street. Federal Plaza, where FBI’s New York Headquarters were located, was only a ten-ish minute walk away. _Glad I brought my bag and drove today. Don’t have to go all the way back home and then come all the way back here. That would have taken me forever and made me soooo late_. (Instead of taking public transportation down from the Bronx with Lorenzo and Ernesta, Kateri had driven her truck and parked it at HQ and then walked up to Little Italy.) Now she was just reversing the trip … a little earlier than she had planned.

The team’s muster room was dark, almost spookily so, and quiet, when Kateri arrived, the faint glow of one emergency exit sign and the faint hum of idling tech the only light and sound. Kateri, unsurprisingly, was the first to arrive. Switch on the lights. Start a pot of coffee pot, _because goodness knows, I want more and the others probably will, too. For the road, if not before_. Start Hana’s computer booting up. Go back out to her truck because _you forgot your bag silly, and you need to finish packing_. _I need more coffee._

With a growl of annoyance at her own forgetfulness, Kateri grabbed her go-bag from her truck and headed back inside. She set her backpack down by her locker, poured herself a mug of coffee, and then started digging through her locker. Most of her spare mags for her main gun and her backup gun as well as extra ammo for both guns typically remained at work, though she kept enough extra in her apartment in the off chance someone was ever idiotic enough to try to rob her apartment while she was in it.

 _That would not end well_.

_Possibly for neither of us._

Some minutes later, Kateri had finished pulling out what she needed and restocking her backpack, slammed her locker door shut with enough force to get the old thing to actually stay closed, and started zipping up her backpack. _Who needs weight training when I lug this thing around?_ It was a good thing that her backpack was a strong and hardy one, considering it usually weighed about twenty to thirty pounds with the spare clothes, gun stuff, med supplies, and extra food she kept in it.

“You’re here early,” said a voice suddenly from behind her.

If Kateri were to be generous, judging her own reaction, she would have said she jumped in surprise. If she were to be a bit less generous, she would have wondered privately to herself, not that she would have ever dreamed of verbalizing it, how there wasn’t a her shaped hole in the ceiling.

 _That’s what you get for letting your mind wander and not paying attention_.

Kateri turned, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart had done it best attempt to jump straight out of her chest from the sheer surprise of the voice breaking through her thoughts, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her throat without even putting her fingers up to the pulse point of her neck. “Bloody h**l, Barnes!”

_Bloody h**l._

_Scared a couple of years off my life!!_

Barnes was standing by the door, having just entered from the parking garage, bag in one hand. From the look in her eyes, she was about as surprised by Kateri’s start as Kateri had been by her voice. “Sorry about that, Kat!” The older woman said sincerely, moving forward to drop her bag off by her usual seat at the table, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

_Not your fault._

_I wasn’t paying attention_.

Taking a deep breath, Kateri waved the apology away, “Wasn’t paying attention. Wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here yet, either.

_Bad things can still happen even at work._

_You’ve got bad guys upstairs in interrogation. Things can happen._

_Gotta pay more attention._

“I wasn’t expecting you, either,” Barnes responded, “What are you doing here so early?”

Kateri turned back to her backpack and finishing zipping it up, replying as she did so, “It’s September. Was over in Little Italy for the Feast of San Gennaro. Bag and truck were already here, so I just had to walk back over.” She gave a shrug, “I was here within about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Ahhhh,” Barnes made a noise of understanding, “How was it? Sorry to pull you away from that. I know you enjoy going from the stories I’ve heard you and Crosby tell.” Both Kenny and Hana had gone with Kateri to the Festival the previous year, not long after the Starbuck’s hostage incident, another mission that would go down forever in team lore.[2]

 _Good as always_.

“It was nice as always. Spent some time with Lorenzo and Ernesta,” Kateri replied, putting her bag down by her chair and retrieving her coffee mug, “Tried some new sweets hadn’t last year. Got a couple cool new things. It was good. You’d always be welcome to come with, you know.”

 _Benefit of this job, I burn off all the calories I eat a loooootttttt faster_.

“That’s good,” said Barnes, her voice making it sound like she was smiling, though her back was to Kateri, as the older woman poured herself some coffee, “One of these years I will. Just have to find the time at the right time.”

_Yeaaaaa, it’s not like you don’t have anything else to do with your life when you’re not here at work._

_Wife, mother, FBI agent, XO … all at the same time._

_It’s like having multiple full-time jobs at the same time. How you do it all at the bloody same time, I don’t know_.

The conversation turned to other topics at that point, a meandering string that ranged from how Charlotte and the kiddo were doing to how Kateri was doing and what she had been doing recently … _besides the Festival_ … to the nice weather to complaint about New York traffic and to anything that Barnes knew about what this case was about. About twenty minutes after Barnes arrived, there were more noises in the parking garage, and a minute later, Hana and Kenny appeared, deep in the midst of a friendly argument about … something _I’ve got no bloody clue what_ , an argument that sounded like it had lasted longer than the time it took to get from the cars to the door.

_Texting battle?_

_I hope you haven’t been blowing up my phone and I just haven’t noticed._

The conversation shifted from fun to work at that point, once Hana and Kenny wrapped up their sibling squabble, as everyone worked on packing, preparing the briefing, and generally shifting from days-off-mindset to work-mindset. Fifteen minutes later, Clinton and the boss arrived, and quickly thereafter it was time to start the briefing.

_Who did what this time to get himself on the Most Wanted List?_

_What more nightmare fuel are we going to see this week?_

No one got on the Most Wanted List for even typical, however horrible and evil, street crimes.

“This one’s a fastball from CID,” Hana declared as she threw a Most-Wanted Poster up onto one of the screens. The team’s latest fugitive was Gabriel Clark, who had the look of a fresh-faced youngster, though he was 27. _Occupation: Police Officer. Wanted for three murders. Bloody, bloody h**l. I hate these cases._

(It was, thankfully, rare that any of the Fugitive Task Force teams had to hunt down an LEO, but Kateri always dreaded and loathed such cases.)

It was always worse when the team had to chase down one of their own, whether law enforcement generally or FBI specifically … _not had to do one of the latter yet. Heard about it though_.

“Gabriel Clark, 27,” Hana continued, “A police officer from Morris Town, New Jersey. Shot two New Jersey state troopers last night in a diner along with the finance of one of the troopers.” Hana turned on one heel to look back at the others.

 _Bloody h**l_ , Kateri shook her head, a grimace passing over her face, as she took a seat at the conference table, stretching out her legs in front of her, crossed at the ankles. _Bloody h**l_. She could see the blood stains on the diner walls in the security footage, the splatter from the victims’ death wounds. _Looks like head shots. Bloody h**l_.

Jess’ brow was furrowed, and he almost seemed puzzled. “How’d the shooting go down?” He asked.

“Wits say Clark entered the diner,” Hana replied without hesitation, “in uniform, walked up to the troopers, started shooting. Head shots on all three. No words exchanged. Nothing. Then he walked out.”

 _That’s really not good_. Grimacing at the thought of head shots and the stomach-churning aftermath of those, Kateri glanced down the table and looked at her partner, who had just finished packing and had set his bag at the far end of the table. Their eyes met, and she could see his troubled look mirrored her own.

This wasn’t _just_ a shooting.

These weren’t random victims.

This was a planned execution. _Cold, callous, ruthless, premeditated. No concern about being identified._ That was clear from the footage. _No interest in giving his victims time to beg or plead and apologize._ Many perps would say something or not shoot immediately, allowing indirectly their victims time to speak … _beg_. But not Clark, he’d shot immediately. _No hesitation. No explanation_.

“Cold-blooded execution,” Clinton stated the obvious bluntly.

“And no effort to disguise himself?” Jess confirmed.

Hana shook her head.

_Cops know the long arm of the law that can come smashing down on you._

_‘Specially when the feds get involved._

_So why not try to disguise himself at all?_

_Give himself some breathing space from the heat?_

“Any history between Clark and the victims?” Jess asked.

 _Is he one of those who just wants everyone to know that it was him who did this?_ There were some perps like that who wanted the attention, wanted the notoriety, wanted everyone that they did _fill-in-the-blank crime_ , while there were others who went the disguise route because they did NOT want to be identified … _so that they have a better chance of getting away and, in some cases, enjoying the fruits of their ill-gotten gains._

“None found,” Hana replied, “All we have on Clark’s personal life is he lives alone, no ex-wife, no kids.”

As the two were speaking, Clinton moved around the table, approaching Kateri’s seat, and she pushed herself to her feet, giving him a small smile of greeting.

_There has to be something that ties the two together._

_There has to be._

_This doesn’t feel random._

“Who was shot first?” Jess wondered aloud.

Hana glanced down at the tablet in her hands and then back up at the screen. “State trooper Tyler Kubiak. The woman is his fiancé,” she replied, gesturing to the footage and to the man specifically, whose head had come to rest on the blood-spattered window sill and whose arm, even in death, still remained around his fiancée’s shoulders.

 _That makes no sense_.

“Kubiak’s the furthest from the shooter,” Barnes pointed out the exact thing that was troubling Kateri.

Being in the FBI, being an undercover agent and then an agent who caught the worst of the worst criminals for a living meant that Kateri … had an unfortunate window into the psyches of psychopaths, sociopaths, nutsos, and plenty of horrific criminals who were perfectly sane and committed their crimes anyway. _If I ever fell off the rails so utterly and completely did a 360, I could be a pretty good criminal … I’d just have to lose my entire moral framework first_. That being said, she knew exactly how, if she had been in Clark’s position, she would have carried out that shooting … _basically opposite to him_ … and Clark’s alternate decisions were high risk and foolhardy and just didn’t make sense.

_The two cops would be the most high-risk targets._

_Everyone would have been hindered by the booth._

_Not a lot of room to move or draw … obviously._

_Would have taken time to get out of the booth._

_Barely had any warning, though._

_Starting with Kubiak … that’s stupid. Nonsensical._

_Shoot the fiancée … she’ll slump into the table or over onto him._

_Either way, Kubiak couldn’t draw quickly at all or get out quickly, ‘specially if he’s right-handed … probably statistically._

_Taking Kubiak out first … … if Clark had been a little slower and the other cop a little faster… the other cop might have been able to shoot him._

_Take out the other cop first even before shooting the fiancée, Kubiak’d still be slowed down._ Kateri glanced back the security footage, double-checking the placements of the three victims. _Arm around her shoulder. Very slow getting to his gun._

_So why take the risk? Why take the risk of getting yourself shot?_

“Would have been easier to start with the other trooper,” Barnes finished.

“And safer, less risky,” Kateri tacked on, head titled, gaze fixed on the screen, glancing at Clinton with a questioning look, and he nodded in agreement, “Clark left himself open. They possibly could have stopped him if the other cop had been faster, hadn’t frozen, and Clark had been a little slower.”

Jess nodded, positing, “Kubiak might have been the main target. Start with him. Then the fiancée.”

_Welllll, maybe, butttttt …_

_If you’re going to shoot all of them, why not take the path of least risk?_

_But why shoot all of them?_

“Maybe his beef is with state police,” Kenny raised an alternate theory, “Might not be out of targets yet.”

_Maybe …_

_But why take out the fiancée?_

_There were other people in the diner who saw him._

_Not worried about witnesses then._

_Don’t start a shooting in a diner of all places either if you’re worried about witnesses._

_Clark’s not that big of a guy. Kenny could probably break him in two without breaking a sweat, but a panicked woman … unless she’s got some serious training … probably not a big threat_.

“Clark has no history with state police,” Hana countered, “He trained with Newark PD, didn’t make it through probation, and then transferred to Morristown PD.”

_Ah, well, so much for that idea._

_Wait … probation problems._

_Wonder what happened there. Probably work looking into_.

“Big city to Mayberry,” Kenny half-quipped, “Must have felt like a step down.”

 _After a city like Newark … after New York … I understand the call of someplace small and quiet_.

 _But not everyone would see it my way_.

Everyone finished packing quickly, gathered last-minute supplies, gear, and files, and then headed outside to the cars, splitting off into their usual pairs and making for their usual vehicles.

“It may be irrelevant…” Kateri mused as she dumped her backpack on the floor of the backseat. Clinton, who was getting his long gun-case maneuvered into the trunk, looked up for a moment, and made a motion for her to keep going, so she did, “But why kill the fiancée? Unless you’re a moron, you don’t start a shooting in a diner if you’re worried about witnesses … unless you plan to just kill everybody, workers et al., which Clark didn’t. He isn’t exactly a big guy, either, but she wasn’t that big, and he had the gun so …”

“He probably didn’t identify her as a threat,” Clinton finished her thought for her, lifting his own bag into the trunk and then shutting the trunk lid, “Depending on what his beef with Kubiak was … guilt by association?”

“Maybe,” Kateri hedged, making a skeptical face, “Or maybe she knows ... knew ... something?”

“Could be,” Clinton replied, coming back around the rear of the car, “We don’t know enough now to know for sure.”

 _True enough_.

Everyone had mostly finished loading up by that point, and Jess began to speak, precluding anything more on that line of conversation. “Cops don’t just snap,” Jess noted, “Newark PD might have detected some weakness in his personality. Maybe that’s why he never got through probation.”

 _Maybe. Not everyone’s cut out for this job_.

“We’ll reach out to them,” Clinton called, speaking as he often did for them both.

“You say, ‘cops don’t just snap,’” Kenny asked, a note of something in his voice, “Is that supposed to make us feel better?”

“It makes me feel better about you,” Hana quipped, slamming her car door shut and appearing from behind Kenny’s back.

Kateri mightily resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Jess pressed one hand to his head. “What I’m trying to say is … we’re trained to measure our response. We let the stress of the job accumulate, sometimes what comes out is depression, anger turned inward, suicide. Or anger turned outward toward the public. Office Clark didn’t just wake up yesterday and decide to shoot two state troopers. We find out what’s behind it, we find out his next move.”

_That was not a hasty crime of passion._

_That was coolly deliberate_.

* * *

Unlike most hunt location for the team, Morristown, New Jersey, was a comparative hop, skip, and a jump away from New York City. Located only 45 minutes west of the city, Morristown was a small town of about 20,000 people, a historical location famous for its history in the American Revolutionary War … _yay for Wikipedia_. Between talking about the case, Kateri telling her partner about the recent festivities at the Festival, and starting the process of reaching out to Newark about Clark’s probationary file, the trip passed quickly, and soon the team found themselves in Morristown by late morning.

The first place the team went in Morristown was Clark’s house in a bid to get some information on _what the h**l is going on in this guy’s head. Maybe they’ll be some clues_. His street was unassuming, normal, and his home the same. Clark’s house wasn’t a proverbial dump that screamed “I’m about to snap and shoot three people in cold blood.” _Though for that matter, very few places we’ve dealt with scream that_. _Most killers … they seem pretty normal usually … until something like this happens_.

“You go on inside, kid. I need to call Clark’s bank,” Clinton said as the two exited their car, which was parked one house down from Clark’s place. With all the cops swarming around plus the team’s three cars, parking was in shorter supply.

“Sure you don’t need a hand?” Kateri asked. As capable as her partner was and as annoying as she usually found dealing with banks and bank personnel to be, it was still … nice … to at least ask.

 _Bean counters and their rules and their persnicketyness … is that even a word? … maybe they’ll cooperate without a warrant if we’re lucky_.

Clinton shook his head, and with a smile and a nod, Kateri turned and jogged off towards Clark’s house. It had been rather chilly earlier than morning back in New York, but now that the sun had come out, it was pleasantly warm.

 _Temps go up much more, I might not need this jacket_.

The inside of Clark’s house was … almost … sterile. Kateri couldn’t think of another word to describe it. Everything she could see as she first stepped inside in Kenny’s wake was black and white and spick and span. Not a hint of clutter or mess in sight. _And we’re sure he lives here? Bloody h**l. Don’t think I could ever keep my place this tidy … however much I tried_. Neatness, she appreciated, but this was … sterile … creepily show … Clark’s place felt like it was for show

It didn’t look … or feel … lived in.

“Weeeeiiiiirrrddddd,” Kateri drawled softly, drawing the word out into about twice the normal amount of syllables.

The team split the house between them. Jess and Hana took the living room, with Hana especially focusing on a stack of mail on a table by the stairs. Kenny headed off with Barnes to look through the room at the back of the house, and Kateri took the kitchen.

The kitchen, like her first glimpse of the downstairs, was spick and span, neat and sterile. The cabinets were polished and gleaming, the counters clean as a whistle. Everything was organized neatly. _Garbage, empty. Doesn’t even smell a little_. The pantry was close to bare. _Clearly not stocked up for a while._ Then, steeling herself … just in case the fridge was a typical bachelor one, _which would be in great contrast to the rest of this kitchen, but still … boys_ … Kateri pulled open the fridge. The fridge was like the rest of the kitchen … neat and tidy and clean … and empty. No beer, no leftovers, no pizza, nothing that looked more like a science experiment than food … just nothing. It was as gleaming and as clean and as empty as any fridge she could buy at a store. _Definitely unusual and definitely weird_.

Footsteps sounded from the back of the house. Barnes and Kenny were returning, so Kateri meandered back toward the living room.

“Kitchen’s as sterile as the rest of this place,” Kateri announced, “No beer, no leftovers, no nothin’ in the fridge. I could have just bought it from a hardware store, and it wouldn’t look emptier and cleaner.”

Barnes nodded agreement, “Same deal with the laundry room. No dirty clothes in the hamper, everything’s polished to a shine.”

“Maybe he’s a germaphobe?” Hana mused.

Kateri shrugged, “Or he has OCD.”

 _Even for a neat freak, this is a little much_.

At that moment, the front door opened, and Clinton entered, gesturing with the phone still in his hand. “Clark emptied out his bank account two days ago,” he announced, “Three grand.”

 _He planned this_.

 _Yet more proof_.

Barnes said as much.

“He ran a tight ship,” Clinton added, “No bounced checks, always paid off his credit cards on time.”

_Is that so unusual?_

_I do that_.

 _I am slightly obsessive about my credit card score, though_.

Jess’ back was to the others, his gaze focused on Clark’s entertainment center and on a long row of DVDs. What exactly Clark’s taste in TV shows or movies was, Kateri hadn’t had time to see yet. _Even people’s choices in that regard can give you an interesting clue_. Jess’ words next words were proof of that. “Probably lived his whole life between the hash lines like his choice of movies, old-time westerns: ‘Shane,’ ‘Fort Apache.” He pulled one DVD off the shelf, “Good and bad with a hard line between the two.”

Clinton returned his phone to his pocket. “Don’t talk to me about westerns, bro,” he said wryly.

Kateri gave a snort of agreement, shaking her head ruefully. She hated westerns with a passion.

_I’m all for distinguish good and evil, and it’s always convenient when things are black and white … not that that really happens a lot in real life, but …_

_Things weren’t as simple back then as those movies try to make us think._

_Our people … we weren’t always the bad guys, and the white men weren’t always the good guys._

_Sometimes … I think both sides were at fault. Ah, but that is a complicated historical conversation not suited for the moment._

_Find a book if you want later. For now, focus!_

The upstairs and Clark’s bedroom were the next target of investigation, and Jess and Barnes went off upstairs to deal with that while the Kateri and the others went back outside. Office Jonathan Hearn, a tall African American … _almost taller than Kenny. Wow!_ … and a fellow member of the Morristown PD, soon approached the agents, bearing very interesting information about Clark.

_SIX civilian complaints?_

_Bloody h**l_.

Jess and Barnes emerged from the house within minutes, and at the sound of the screen door shutting, Kenny turned back toward the house. “Hey, boss, Office Hearn was just telling me our boy Clark has six civilian complaints in his file,” he said, handing off the papers detailing the complaints as Jess approached.

“He wrote a lot of traffic tickets,” Hearn explained, “I mean, he was just a hard-a**. You could be on fire and go through a red light, and he’d escort you to the hospital, but first he’d write you that ticket.”

_Seriously!?!?_

_Bloody h**l_.

 _Not a good way to go about this job_.

“Any beefs with state troopers?” Kenny asked, positing the question/potential theory/possible explanation/thing that had been on the team’s mind since the original briefing a couple of hours earlier.

“Not that I’d heard,” Hearn responded immediately but then added as further elaboration, “He never opened up to me or anybody else in the department.”

_A loner? That doesn’t bode well necessarily._

_Also, not a good thing if you’re trying to survive this job._

_Not an easy job. Going it alone just makes it harder_.

Having a team really helped, as Kateri had found out.

“You know anything about this?” Jess asked, turning back towards the house and pointing towards the crib, which Kenny had found immediately and told them about after searching the garage a little bit before.

_Why does he have a crib?_

_No sign of a female presence in that place._

_Barely a sign of HIS presence in some ways_.

“No,” said Hearn, following Jess back toward the garage, “He mentioned he had a girlfriend in Newark, and I took his word for it, but he never told me her name or showed me a photo, nothing.”

 _Weird_.

Troubled by the strangeness of the situation, Kateri scowled and stuffed her hands into her pocket, her gaze following the others as they moved, though she remained where she was next to her partner, her back to the road.

A sudden voice calling out from the crowd gathered at the end of the driveway made Kateri start, and her head came around, searching for the face that went with the man’s voice who was saying, “Sir, that’s our crib. I live across the street.”

 _Well, that’s one mystery solved_.

The man who had spoken was of middling height, dressed in casual clothes. His skin was dark, and his general appearance made Kateri guess he was probably Indian in ethnicity. Kateri exchanged a look with Jess, a question clear in her face, and Jess nodded. _Bring him up, okay_. She turned toward the crowd, stepping around Clinton who was absorbed and distracted with whomever he was speaking to on the phone, and motioned for the newcomer to join them.

“Gabe was helping me put it together,” the gentleman continued as Kateri escorted him up the driveway, “I was over here yesterday, and,” he paused in surprise for a moment, his hands moving nervously, “G*d, I can’t believe he finished it.”

_Come again?_

“What do you mean?” Asked Kenny.

“I had to take my wife out to dinner,” the witness explained, “We were only halfway done. It must have taken him hours to finish it.”

 _Interesting_.

_Seems a little contradictory … goes to a lot of time and effort to help a neighbor … but he’s a loner at work._

_Weird._

“You were close with Officer Clark?” Jess asked.

“I don’t know about close,” the other man said, hesitantly, his hands moving again nervously, “but we moved in a year ago. He was super friendly, plus we liked having a cop in the neighborhood. Made us feel safe.”

 _I can understand the latter_.

 _Super friendly … okay_. The picture so far of Gabe Clark was a puzzling one, that was for sure.

_Doesn’t exactly mesh with the loner narrative at work._

“Perfect neighborhood,” noted Jess.

_Except for his killing spree of fellow LEOs?_

_Kinda puts a damper on the good-guy image_.

“He talk about problems at work or with other cops?” Barnes took up the line of questioning next, trying to get any information from the civilian that might aid the team in their hunt.

“No,” the man shook his head, “we talked about positive things like raising kids. He wanted a family.”

“Did he have someone to have it with?” Added Barnes.

Their witness— _really need to get a name_ —patted his pockets hurriedly, and then he pulled out a cellphone, “Elise, his girlfriend from Newark. I don’t have a last name, but I have a photo. He sent it to me to show Amma.” He passed his phone over to Kenny, who passed the phone to Jess. “He said that they were waiting for the right time to get married.”

Kateri moved around to peer over Barnes’ shoulder and caught a glimpse of a photo of a happy moment in the life of Gabe Clark and the mysterious Elise, a blond-haired woman about the same height as Clark. The two were standing in front of some building. _Not enough context to figure out where_. Both were smiling, and Elise had her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

 _So much for their happy ending_.

Cases like this with a cop gone bad did not tend to end well.

* * *

Kenny, Clinton, Hana, and Kateri wrapped up things at Clark’s house, including getting the list of names and phone numbers of any locals who the cops had been talking to re Clark, especially for the one for whom Gabe had built the crib. _Atul. Finally, a name_. Once they were done, they headed back to the bus, which had been brought down from New York while they were working.

Meanwhile, Jess and Barnes left for Newark and returned with interesting news as well as lunch two hours later. There was no current relationship between Officer Clark and his purported girlfriend Elise from the picture Atul had shown the team. The two had broken up four years earlier while Clark was still at the Newark Police Academy, and _Elise wants anything to do with him currently about as much as she’d want a hole in the head, I gather_. Clark had mood swings, which were one of the things that had put the kibosh on their relationship. He had blamed Elise once for making him so angry that he drove to fast and then got pulled over for speeding.

_She made him angry, and it was thus her fault that he drove to fast._

_Seriously? So you have no control over your own actions._

_Bloody h**l_. It was behavior like that, comments like that which sounded several steps too close to examples of emotional abuse Kateri had heard before.

Clark frequently gave out traffic tickets in Morristown— _hands ‘em out like candy_ —but had gotten furious over getting one himself. _Rules for me, and rules for you. Bad attitude to have in a cop. We’re human. We make mistakes, and we are never ever above the law_.

Elise had given Clark a second chance six months after the original breakup, but nothing ever came of it, and she had also refused Clark’s offer to go with him to Morristown to start a family.

 _Bloody h**l, this is so messed up_.

* * *

The afternoon passed quietly and uneventfully as the team started running down leads, checking information off the tip line, and digging into Clark’s past. ERT members, local cops, and other supporting agents from the FBI came and went as the hours passed. A manhunt was not a solitary endeavor. The team could not go running off on their own and still get the job done. A successful hunt depended on cooperation with local agencies, local cops, and with civilians who send in tips and gave statements. _Our job’s not like in a cop show. This isn’t over and done with in a day._ Hunts took time, a lot of time, usually.

Early in the evening, not long before Kateri would have expected a discussion of dinner to be raised … if she had been paying attention to the time … the ringing of a cell-phone broke the silence that had temporarily fallen over the bus. Kateri was sitting at her desk next to her partner, eyes glued to her laptop screen, chin propped on one closed fist. At the first ring, her eyes flicked over to her own work phone sitting next to her laptop and currently plugged into the wall. The screen was black. _Not for me, then_.

“LaCroix.”

 _Ah, call for the boss_.

Kateri turned her attention back to her work, keeping one ear on the conversation.

“Where?” Came Jess’ first question a few seconds later after whoever was calling him apparently gave him news about something, “How long ago?”

 _Oh, bloody h**l_. Kateri knew from the boss’ tone of voice that something bad had happened. She knew that tone, had heard it too many times before, coming from all of her teammates and coming out of her mouth. _We’ve got another body_.

Clark had struck again, she was almost certain.

Kateri saved her work and swiveled her chair towards Jess, who was sitting at the small table at the other end of the bus. His back was to her, but she could see a glimpse of his arm as he finished his call and returned his phone to to his pocket. He rose from his seat and turned towards the team.

“We’ve got another body. A female cop killed in Pennington. Single shot to the head,” said Jess, his face grave. _Like the others_.

 _Bloody h**l_. It was always worse for the team when cops were the victims. _Another one of our own gone. Another name for the memorial_.

Kateri crossed herself automatically, as Kenny asked, “Clark?”

“The body was found within the last hour. Police are still canvassing for witnesses. We’re going on that assumption for now,” Jess replied.

_Rather coincidental timing if it isn’t._

_He’s already killed two cops._

_Now another dead body shows up._

The team needed to find Clark before more people, police officers or not, ended up dead. The team couldn’t risk letting this possible lead go cold.

“Let’s go,” Jess ordered, turning back to his seat to pick up his jacket.

Bags were gathered, and jackets and coffee cups were snatched up, and the team filed out.

* * *

Pennington was a small town with a population of less than 3000 people, located about 30 minutes north-east of Morristown. Pennington Park, where Officer Amy Campbell had been shot and killed, was located on the banks of the Passaic River. ERT had already arrived by the team pulled up, and local cops and yet more non-ERT, FBI agents were already swarming around the scenic park. A couple small groups of civilians were gathered nearby.

_Dead bodies draws a crowd._

_How many are actual wits, who the bloody h**l knows._

“Looks like a place I’d go running,” Kateri murmured half-to-herself as she climbed from the SUV her partner was driving and stretched out a kink in her back.

“Good lines of sight, not a lot of cover,” Clinton noted, scanning the park with a sniper’s keen eye, “Not a lot of people considering the time. Whoever did this, thought it through.”

_I hate smart criminals._

_Would make our lives so much easier if they were all dumb_ _as a box of rocks … probably_.

“Where to first?” Kateri asked, glancing around to see where her other teammates were, wondering if Jess had something particular that he wanted them to do. Kenny had his cellphone glued to his ear. Jess and Barnes were headed off toward a particularly thick group of people— _looks like ERT on those jackets. Big cameras … definitely ERT_ —almost certainly gathered around the body of the hapless cop. Kateri crossed herself again habitually.

“Witnesses,” Clinton answered after a moment’s thought, “The sooner we know whether this is Clark or not the better.”

 _For sure_.

As usual, Clinton did most of the talking, both to the civilians and the other cops, letting Kateri settle back in his shadow and watch and listen, as she went back and forth between scanning the park with a practiced eye and studying the particular witness of the moment, cataloging body language, intonations, mannerisms, and other tells.

One witness in particular had the vital clue needed to confirm that Clark was the killer. The witness—a middle-aged man out walking his collie—had seen a uniformed cop in the park not long before the time the call that sent out the murdered officer to the park. When a six-pack of potential faces was gathered and proffered, the witness instantly identified Gabriel Clark as the man that he had had seen.

 _Jackpot_.

With many thanks, Clinton and Kateri left another FBI agent to finish getting contact detail from the witness and headed back toward their teammates and the other agents clustered near the body to give them an update.

Officer Amy Campbell lay on the worn grass in the exact position she had fallen. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly into the sky. There was no surprise, no fear, no confusion on her face. The attack had come out of nowhere. She had no time to react. There was a large dark hole right above her right eyebrow. _Head shot. At least it would have been quick_. That was one mercy with head shots … usually. What was worse was … _when it blows half your brains out and you survive._

“Head shot, point blank,” Clinton noted aloud, glancing down at the body, “Officer Amy Campbell, three years on the Patterson PD.” He quickly relayed the personal information Kateri had gotten from another local cop. His voice sobered even further, “She has two kids at home.”

_What the h**l’d she do to deserve this in Clark’s mind?_

Kenny walked up at that point, having finished whatever calls he had been making, “She was responding to a call about a vagrant. Came in to the department’s non-emergency line. Calls aren’t recorded or traced. Number goes back to a burner … this one.” He held up a phone encased in a plastic evidence bag and then turned to point back at the ERT guys going over a park trashcan with a fine-tooth comb. “It was found in that trashcan over there.”

 _Ah, that’s why she got called out. Been wondering about that_.

_What is it about perps ditching stuff in trashcans? River would have made more sense._

_Probably would have needed USERT **[3]** to fish it out. Would have taken a h**l of a lot longer_.

“Wit saw a cop in the park at the time of the call,” Clinton informed the others, “They picked Clark out of a six-pack.”

Jess crouched down next to the body, as Barnes noted, “Clark laid a trap.”

“A bloody good one,” Kateri answered, “Nobody even heard a shot. In a park, for heaven’s sake.” _This isn’t exactly Grand Central, but still_.

“Couple of witnesses saw a vagrant heading out of the park,” Clinton added, giving the rest of the critical info the two had found out, “in no hurry like a Sunday walk.” His tone was ladened with disgust.

_What the h**l happened to you, Clark?_

_You’re supposed to be one of the good guys, not one who turns on another one of his own_.

“He did everything right,” Jess noted slowly, “Secluded area, dinnertime so the park was mostly empty, and a disguise nobody would pay attention to.” Jess pushed himself to his feet. “He put a lot of effort into this.”

 _Guy’s got a lot of guts. Not sure I’d want to do a hit in a park, even a more secluded bit like this_.

Suddenly, Hana approached at a fast pace from the direction of the SUVs, her tablet in her hands. “You guys have to see this,” she exclaimed, “It’s trending on Reddit.”

 _What the h**l is Reddit?_ Kateri had a Twitter account under an alias, which she used once in a blue moon, and had a passing knowledge of how to work Facebook, but that was about the extent of her knowledge of social media. In her view she had better things to do with her time.

Everyone gathered around Hana so that they could see the screen, and Officer Clark’s face appeared on the screen, as Hana hit play on a video.

“My name is Officer Gabriel Clark of the Morristown Police Department,” Clark announced in the video. He was standing in front of a blank white wall, and there were no identifying background sounds. “I have a short statement to make. We live in a world of lies. Fake news, fake facts, dirty things made to look clean, phony pictures, leaders telling us up is down, and everywhere people, who are breaking their word.”

 _Wellllll, I agree with your general points, I think, but I don’t think I’ll agree with your application or your solution_.

_Sounds generally calm._

_Voice is a little too … fanatical? … for comfort._

What calmness there had been in Clark’s voice quickly evaporated, “Truth … the most important thing in life is the truth. Now, I’ve always told the truth, but they haven’t.”

_Who are “they” exactly?_

“I regret I have taken lives.”

_Do you really?_

_Why are you doing it then?_

“And I’ll regret I have to take more lives until they tell the truth.”

_Again, with the they … who are the “they”?_

_How is murdering people going to help this situation exactly?_

Barnes’ next words summed up the situation well, “Well, that’s a declaration of war.”

* * *

The team returned to the bus, which had been brought over from Morristown to Patterson during their absence, and started reviewing the new intel from the scene and from the video Clark had released.

“It’s the metadata from Clark’s video,” Kenny noted not long after dinner, “He uploaded it the morning before he killed the troopers and scheduled its release for today … after he killed Campbell.” He swiveled his creaking chair back toward Jess.

“He has every step planned out,” Barnes concluded.

Kateri scowled as she took a long sip from her coffee and then made a face. It had gone cold. _Blech_. She had a bad feeling Barnes was right, and that made the team’s job even harder. _Smart crooks are the worst_. Planners were bad. That made it even more imperative that the team get ahead of Clark … somehow. _How’s the problem_.

Hana, who had been analyzing PD personal files, suddenly rose from her seat, “Campbell was with Newark PD before she joined Paterson.”

_Newark … like Clark._

_That’s an interesting … coincidence._

_Or is it?_

“She quit Newark six months before Clark did,” Hana added, spreading out the relevant files on the conference table. Everyone gathered around to study the data.

“They served there at the same time,” Barnes countered, “Doesn’t mean he targeted her.”

“True,” said Kateri, who had gotten up to look over Kenny’s shoulder for a minute, sticking her hands into her jacket pockets and rocking back on her feet, “Still, it’s an interesting coincidence.”

_Not so sure it’s just coincidence, though._

“But,” Jess added, “if he knew her patrol schedule, he’d know she’d be the one to respond to the call.”

“All he’d need is a police scanner,” Kenny said with a nod, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“And those aren’t that hard to come by,” Kateri noted.

Jess pushed himself to his feet, “Let’s go back over the troopers. Look for any connection to Newark. And I want everything on Clark’s stint in Newark.”

_All roads lead to Rome, or in this case, Newark._

* * *

The team started digging into the Newark connection and Clark’s probationary file from Newark. Unfortunately, the latter was rather thin, especially when it came to the reasons why Clark did not stay. Within an hour Barnes and Jess departed for Newark, an hour’s drive away, to rustle up some more information, leaving the others to continue their work at the bus.

About an-hour-and-a-half after the two had left, Hana gave an exclamation of surprise and started in her seat, drawing the other’s attention.

 _Now what?_ Kateri wondered, looking up from her work and rubbing her eyes.

“Anyone want to guess where Kubiak’s father works as a paramedic?” Hana asked.

_Three guesses, and two don’t count?_

“Newark?” Everyone else chorused at the same time.

“Newark,” Hana confirmed, “In the same precinct as where Clark and Campbell worked.”

_Now isn’t that interesting._

_All these are definitely not just coincidences._

“Get on the phone to Barnes,” Clinton instructed, “They need to know this.”

_This is not at all suspicious._

* * *

[1] <https://sangennaronyc.org/>

[2] How to Get Out of Paperwork … The Hard Way.

[3] <https://archives.fbi.gov/archives/news/stories/2005/august/diveteams_080805>.


	2. Wednesday, September 18: Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a day late. It's almost final exam time, and I'm ridiculously busy, and my muse decided to jump ship straight back into LOTR, my first ever fandom, for most of last week.

It was quite late by the time Barnes and Jess returned to Paterson from Newark. Mike Peroni, the Lieutenant at the precinct where Clark and Campbell had both worked, had had some very interesting things to say, and there were some interesting things that the visit had raised which Peroni was … possibly intentionally … not talking about. Newark, Peroni had informed the FBI agents, had given Clark a “fair shake” during his probationary period, but Clark had not been able to hack it. _This life isn’t for everyone. Not everyone has what it takes to be a cop. That’s a given, but …_ The reason for the details in Clark’s probationary being rather … slim … was that Peroni had not wanted to deep six Clark’s chances of every getting another job as a police officer.

_Depending on the problems you saw, that’s not necessarily a good approach._

_Depending on the problem, might not be able to hack it somewhere else either._

“What problems did Newark see?” Kateri had asked the previous evening.

“He was inflexibly rigid, argumentative,” Jess answered, “Clark saw everything in terms of black and white as we saw hints of at his apartment.”

_Makes doing this job rather difficult._

_Rarely do we find a cut and dry case._

_Life is not black and white._

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed his tune much,” Kenny commented dryly, giving a quiet snort.

Clark and Campbell, Jess and Barnes had also found out, had never patrolled together, and Campbell had left, not because of any noted problems, because Patterson had offered her (A) more benefits and (B) more time with the kids.

 _Sounds very understandable for a working Mom_.

“I still don’t like this, though,” Jess finished, “Peroni seems much too happy to kick his problems down the road.”

 _True_.

That problem as well as interviewing Trooper Kubiak’s paramedic father were declared to be issues that could be dealt with the next day, as the clock ticked ever closer to midnight, and it was nearly 1am before the team called it quits for the night and lights were turned off so everyone could get some sleep.

Kateri lay awake for a while across the aisle from Barnes, her eyes starring off into the blackness towards the ceiling. Though she had felt quite tired as she had finished up her work for the night, now that she was actually laying down … Kateri didn’t feel quite so tired after all. _Bloody h**l, I hate nights like this_. _Of all the times to turn into an insomniac again, on a case is not the time._ Her mind was running too fast for sleep, going back over the details of the case and mulling over the victims. Officer Campbell was especially on her mind. _Her poor kids! I hope the father’s in the picture. If not … they’re orphans now. Bloody h**l_. The potential situation reminded her too much of her own childhood, and she forced her mind away before her too fertile imagination could conjure up trouble or her wandering thoughts could wander right into childhood memories that would only make the dark night worse.

Kateri crossed herself quietly in the darkness, untucking one arm for a moment from the depths of her jacket that she was using for a blanket.

_Eternal rest grant unto her,_

_O Lord, and let perpetual light_

_shine upon her. May the souls_

_of all the faithful departed, through_

_the mercy of God, rest in peace_.

When she continued to lie awake, Kateri finally gave a silent sigh and started to pray through the Rosary. She knew she would go asleep sooner or later … _hopefully sooner_ … and decided that she might as well use the time profitably until that point. _Praying the Rosary is calming anyway_.

* * *

To Kateri it seemed like she had only been asleep for a few minutes when a hand gently shook her shoulder, rousing her from the depths of a strange and frightening dream. In the dream, Kateri was making her way slowly through an apartment—not hers or one of her teammates, but one that seemed vaguely familiar nonetheless—gun drawn, clearing it. What the threat was, Kateri didn’t know, but she felt a sense of lingering … dread? … and the hairs on her neck stood on end as she moved.

In the dream, as Kateri took a step through a doorway that should have lead from the living room into the kitchen, the scene changed, and she found herself in the depths of a dark, shadowy warehouse with towering shelves that was all-too reminiscent of the warehouse where she had shot … her partner … the closest thing she had to her father … and accident that had haunted her for months. There was a sudden noise behind her, and Kateri whirled, gun coming up … _when did I lower it_ … in a defensive move.

A nameless, faceless opponent was coming towards her at a run. Kateri fixed her sight-picture in an instant, and she started to pull the trigger to let off a shot that should, if her attacker wasn’t wearing body armor, drop him in his tracks.

The gun wouldn’t fire.

However hard she tried to depress the trigger, it wouldn’t budge.

The gun wouldn’t fire.

Her attacker drew ever closer, and again Kateri tried to fire, now almost panicked, but nothing happened.

Just as her attacker was about to boll her over … a flash of silver in one hand … a knife??? … a hand shook her shoulder, and a voice called her name, and Kateri awoke with a start and a curse. Caught for a moment in the vague world between dreams and the waking world, she jerked backwards, still for a moment expecting an attack, but only painfully rammed one shoulder into the cabinets right behind her.

That pain brought her more toward reality in an instant.

Kateri’s eyes flew open as the pain shot through her arm, and she cursed violently. An arm’s length away, Clinton was kneeling by her side, concern clear on his face, one hand outstretched as if he were about to touch her or was just pulling back from shaking her awake. “Easy, kid,” he said gently.

 _Bloody h**l_. Her heart was pounding in her throat. _I hate dreams like that_.

Kateri took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to force her heartrate under control. “Sorry, sorry,” she said quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to dispel the last vestiges of her dream, “I was dreaming.”

_Idiot, that was quite obvious._

_Others are watching_. She felt embarrassed by her reaction and by disturbing them.

A concerned frown passed across her partner’s face. “Do you want to talk about it?” Clinton asked, switching fluently from English into Mohawk. He knew some of the darkest secrets of Kateri’s past, knew the contents of many of the frequent nightmares that haunted her sleep.

 _Considering somethings that’ve happened, the grey hairs I’ve given him, we probably have some nightmares about the same events_.

Kateri shook her head quickly, pushing herself fully into a seated position and leaning back against the cabinet. Her jacket pooled at her waist, and she pushed it aside before reaching up to rub her abused shoulder. “No,” she replied in English, “I’m alright. It was just one of those crazy dreams where you’re armed, trying to clear a building, and your gun won’t fire.”

A look of understanding passed across Clinton’s face, and Kenny, who was standing a few feet away pulling out stuff from a cabinet to make the first pot of coffee … _first of many …_ for the day, gave a sympathetic snort. “I had one of those dreams the other day,” he made a face, “I was wearing snow gloves for some d**n reason. Couldn’t even get my trigger finger in the d**n trigger guard. It’s September!"

That story drew a laugh from the whole team as much in sympathy as for Kenny’s amusing face and his aggrieved tone as if the glove had personally affronted him by its sheer present.

 _Oh, Kenny_.

Clinton rose and extended a hand to Kateri, who allowed herself to be pulled to her feet by her partner’s greater strength. The dream was already fading from her mind. Now she was more annoyed at herself for her reaction than she was bothered by the dream. It had been more strange than scary as nightmares went.

 _Plenty of my others put it to shame on the scary-scale_.

Breakfast was a quick affair. Kenny had made a huge pot of coffee, and there was instant oatmeal and granola bars from the stash in the kitchenette cabinet. When all were finished eating or almost finished eating, Jess distributed assignments for the day. He and Barnes would go back to Newark to interview Kubiak’s father, the paramedic who served in the same precinct Clark once had. Kateri and the others would remain at the bus for the time being, digging further into Clark’s time in Newark, reviewing anything that came in off the tip line, and following up on any new leads or clues from witness statements from the Campbell shooting.

* * *

The morning passed quietly. As much as she thoroughly hated the task, Kateri had volunteered to deal with the tip line. Clinton had some more details from a couple of witness statements to chase down, and Kenny and Hana were better left to the job that would probably require the most computer skill: digging into Clark’s past. _No one would ever mistake me for a tech genius_. Kateri knew her way around a computer, could do the things she commonly needed to do, but she could not match Hana or Kenny’s skill in the slightest. Her partner, even, was better with a computer than her. _I’m better at wrangling intel out of people, than computers in most cases_.

By lunch time plenty of work had been done, but there was little to progress to show for the morning’s work. The bus had fallen quiet save for the clacking of keys for a while, but the voices of Kenny and Hana joshing back and forth finally got louder, loud enough to draw Kateri from her thoughts. One elbow was propped up on the arm rest of her desk chair, and she had propped her cheek on one closed fist. Her eyes had slipped half-closed for a moment. Sitting largely unmoving for hours on end— _most exercise I’m getting right now is scrolling my mouse_ —and doing dull work— _zilch helpful here_ —had a tendency to be soporific. _Maybe I need more coffee_.

The topic under discussion was lunch … _Ah, yes. Almost noon. It is getting that time_ … and more specifically where to get food for lunch. The discussion seemed to have veered off from sensible suggestions into the ridiculous. _Are they actually suggesting lunch options or tag-teaming reading off a list from Google Map’s find-restaurants-near-me list._ Kateri grimaced when a sushi place was mentioned. Her taste in food leaned toward the more mundane with some exceptions, and she had never understood the appeal of eating raw fish, especially if shellfish got involved in any way, shape, or form.

Kateri pulled a sheet of scrap paper closer and scrawled out … _Should we be worried?_ … and shoved it over in her partner’s direction with a cheeky smile and a nod in the direction of Kenny and Hana. Clinton, who had been on a call … _or is it hold? He hasn’t said anything for a while_ … for nearly half-an-hour and was almost drumming his fingers in what appeared to be annoyance, exasperation, or sheer boredom, grinned and gave a quiet snort of laughter.

_You get dumped on hold?_

She scrawled out that question, and Clinton nodded, rolling his eyes for effect. Kateri gave a commiserating grimace and, with an encouraging smile, turned back to her work.

* * *

Lunch ended up coming from a normal restaurant to Kateri’s relief. Burgers were the meal of the hour again, but every place’s burgers and fries tasted a little different, so _I’m not sick of ‘em yet. Good thing I like beef anyway_. As she later surmised, Kenny and Hana’s joshing about lunch options had turned into more of a break, stress-relief thing than actual suggestions. _Got find a break in this kinda work somehow, or you’ll go nuts_.

Early in the afternoon, not long after lunch, Jess and Barnes returned with critical news and important leads both from the interview with Kubiak’s father and from another resulting interview with Lieutenant Peroni.

The late Officer Kubiak, his father stated, grew up in Edison with his mother and, thus, had had no contact with Clark during his childhood, even during visits to his father in Newark. Even if the two had met during those early years, Kubiak had stated confidently that his son, “a mellow kid,” would have had nothing to do with a “hard-a**” kid like Clark.

 _Interesting descriptor … and strange … for a kid_.

“Kubiak claimed at first that he had never met and had no knowledge of Clark,” Barnes noted from her seat across the bus conference table from Jess.

“Very interesting description of Clark for someone who has never met and doesn’t know a think about Clark,” Kateri drawled, looking up for a moment from the pad of paper she was scribbling notes on as fast as her hand could write.

“That’s what we said,” Jess replied with a nod of agreement, “When we pressed Kubiak, he caved. Clark, he said, had killed his son to get back at him.”

_Get back at him?_

_What the bloody h**l for?_

Barnes took the narrative up again at that point, “Three years ago, Newark PD did a drug raid on a house, and a civilian was shot and killed. Clark, who was one of the officers on the team, argued that Newark had screwed up with the officers failing to ID themselves properly, and Kubiak Sr. overheard that accusation.”

_Bloody h**l, that’d be a mess-up of horrific proportions._

_Higher-ups’d probably have kittens over all the bad press._

_Probably’d lose your job over a screw-up like that_.

_People die when you mess up like that._

“Making those claims did not exactly win Clark brownie points with his fellow officers,” Barnes continued. _Uh, yeaa, sounds about right. Dangerous mentality. Don’t turn on your brothers/sisters in blue even if someone really did screw up and needs to be brought to justice_. “There was an investigation. Kubiak was told by his superiors to forget the intel he heard. He lied, contradicting his story, and a few months later, Clark got fired.”

_Okayyyyyyyyyyy._

_But why? What did Newark want to hide?_

_What the h**l happened?_ Most times when low-level people were faced with strong suggestions that they amend reports, lie in investigations, and all the other variations, someone screwed up royally, and the powers-that-be wanted to cover it up for some reason. _Don’t want to look bad. Don’t want bad press, being prime examples._

 _So what the h**l happened three years ago?_ Not identifying yourself during a raid was a screw-up of massive proportions, but a cover up as extreme as this was turning into … _there’s something more than a failed ID here …_

“That was all we got from Mr. Kubiak,” Jess retook up the briefing, “We went back to the precinct to speak with Peroni, and he provided us with a few more details. According to Peroni, Clark did not get fired because of the raid or his claims.” _Interesting timing, though. Something is definitely rotten in this stinking mess_. “Campbell was one of the other 12 officers on the raid.”

Kateri’s eyes went wide at that, and she scribbled down a note, circled it, and underlined it. _All the other intel before indicated the two didn’t know each other_.

“According to Peroni,” Jess continued, “Narcotics got a tip from a CI about a meth lab operating out of a house in the Ironbound District in Newark. A no-knock warrant was executed. When the occupant of the house pulled a gun, the officers returned fire, killing the occupant. Drugs were found, but there was no meth lab.”

_Okay. Not at all suspicious._

_How do you lose a meth lab? Either their CI’s worthless, or they weren’t at the right place._

_Unless you’ve got a long space of time between the report and the raid … Don’t think you could clear out a meth lab that quickly._

_Could bring in a dog to confirm. Could get rid a lot of the evidence with enough time, but not all of it …_

“The investigation, according to Peroni, showed that the cops did ID themselves. Clark just did not hear.”

Now everyone was getting strange looks on their faces. Peroni’s claims were just chock full of red-flag statements. _This does not make any sense. How the h**l, if they IDed themselves, would Clark NOT hear?_

“He didn’t hear?” Kenny’s voice was flat. His eyebrows had crawled nearly up to his hairline, and suspicion was clear in his face.

“We’re not exactly quiet when we’re raiding a house and shouting FBI at the top of our lungs,” Hana quipped.

 _That’s for bloody sure_.

“I’m guessing this wasn’t a house the size of a Hollywood mansion?” Kateri began slowly, brow furrowed. When Jess shook his head, she continued slowly, as if she were thinking aloud, “If, theoretically, he actually were in a house big enough where you could actually have even the slimmest of chances of actually not hearing the shouts from someone at another door …”

“Why would he be accusing the officers of not IDing themselves at all?” Clinton finished her thought for her.

“But even if he’s at the back door of a regular sized house or especially with the group at the main door … unless they’re whispering their IDs,” for a moment Kateri’s voice dropped in pitch to a breathy whisper to make the point, “How the h**l would Clark not hear?”

_This just doesn’t make any bloody sense._

_Unless Peroni … unless he’s covering._

_Something definitely smells more rotten than a garbage dump here_.

Jess nodded, “Something is wrong with this whole picture, going back to how willing Peroni is to kick his problems down the road. His office is sending over the investigation report and the police reports on the raid itself as well as the names of all the officers. Dig into those reports. Find out what is really going on. Also, we need to get protection details put onto all the officers … including Peroni, who signed off on the raid, before Clark’s body count gets any higher.”

 _The raid is the impetus for the killings_.

_What the h**l happened that night?_

Barnes pushed herself to her feet, “Let’s get to it then.”


	3. Thursday, September 19: Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being a day late. It's Finals Week, which I think is its own explanation!

By the time the clock ticked 12am, and Wednesday turned into Thursday, most of the team was starting to crash, as long days and short nights fueled by adrenaline and too much coffee started to take their toll. As always, there was more work to be done, but since that work would be accomplished more quickly and more efficiently and more thoroughly … _once we all actually get some sleep that does not come from actually nodding off at our desks_ … Jess sent everyone to bed not long after 12am.

By the luck of the draw that the team had held every night spent in the bus since she had joined the team, Kateri had scored one of the bunk beds for the night, but it seemed yet again like she had only been asleep for a few minutes when a hand touched her arm in the darkness. She started awake, instinct keeping her from sitting upright and ramming her head straight into the ceiling. _Just what I’d need … a concussion_.

“Need you up, kid,” it was Clinton’s voice from below, soft but urgent, “Kenny, up.” His words were insistent, but his tone gentle so not to startle either of them.

Kateri rolled onto her side, rubbing at her eyes groggily with one hand, and then activated the backlight on her watch. It had just ticked 1am. She had been asleep for less than an hour.

 _Oh, bloody h**l_. She knew something bad had happened … _really bad_ … for her partner to be rousting them out of bed so soon after they had cut out. _Really, really bad_ if it even couldn’t wet until 6am, the wake-up call time Jess had set.

“Clinton, what the h**l?” Came Kenny’s half-awake grumble. The bed creaked beneath her as he sat up.

“Shooting at Peroni’s place,” Clinton replied, “Until we know otherwise, we’re assuming it’s Clark trying for victim number 5.”

 _Oh, bloody h**l_.

_Peroni was the big shot on the raid. Not surprising Clark would try for him, but why at this hour?_

_Bother it all._

Muttering a string of curses under her breath at the situation … not her partner—Kateri had so been looking forward to the sleep, had barely been able to keep her eyes open by the time she had crashed into bed—she scrambled down to the end of the bunk and climbed down the ladder. Giving a face-breaking yawn, she sat down on the floor by the wall where she had stuffed her boots out of trip-range and started to pull them back on.

 _Nights like these I wish I had Clinton’s ability to power through_. Kateri wasn’t quite so good at all-nighters as he was. She needed some sleep. _I need coffee_. Outside the curtain, she could hear the others rousing and rising, and suddenly a light was flipped on, and Kateri winced at the sudden explosion of light in her still foggy brain. With the curtain mostly open, most of the light streamed through into the bunk area.

_Bloody h**l._

“Where do you need me?” Kateri asked, muffling a face-breaking hand behind one hand, as she climbed back to her feet. She resisted the urge to squint.

 _Bloody h**l, I need coffee_.

The three of them stepped back into the main part of the bus before Clinton could answer, and Jess ended up answering for him, “I want you two to go to Newark, liaison with ERT and go over Peroni’s place with a fine-tooth comb. Find out what the h**l happened.” He switched to dispensing assignments to the other.

Kateri let her thoughts wander at the point, forcing her slow-moving brain to consider what she needed to grab to take with her. _One thing at a time. One task and then the next_. _Backpack. Get your gun. Coat. Mug? Nah, get a to-go mug from someplace. Please let us have time to stop for coffee!_ She was not hopeful on her chances of getting more sleep that night. Today was going to be survivable only with a whole lot of coffee. _Probably an unhealthy amount._

“Please say we can get coffee before we head out of town,” Kateri asked, almost pleaded, as she followed Clinton down the steps out of the bus, pulling the door shut with a click behind her.

The street lights in the parking lot where the bus was were spaced at quite a distant, and several of them were burnt out, but there was enough light for her to still see the sympathetic smile that crossed Clinton’s face and his answering nod.

“That will only take a minute, kid,” he replied, “And I think we’re both going to need it.”

Bags were dumped in the SUV, and within ten minutes of the extremely untimely wake-up call, Clinton and Kateri were pulling out of the lot.

“Any more details than what you said inside?” Kateri asked, scrubbing her hands across her face, “And if it looks like I’m about to conk out, shake me.”

_Please don’t let me fall asleep._

_Last thing I need is to get even groggier_.

“Newark PD is lead on the detail covering Peroni’s places. He and his wife and kids were at a cabin outside the city. Apparently, Clark was watching the place. Shots were fired. Still waiting on more details.”

 _Interesting_.

“When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago. Just before midnight.” Clinton replied.[1]

_Midnight. About the time we cut out._

_Past one now. An hour … a whole hour to get in touch with us …_

“What took so long getting in touch with us?” Kateri asked, a note of puzzlement leaking into her voice.

“Cops had to secure Peroni and his family as well as the area. Then some wires got crossed getting the message to us and the agents overseeing the protection details.”

_Okay._

_Makes sense … I think._

Whether things would still make sense when she had had some coffee and had woken up further remained to be determined. Her brain felt like slow-moving cogs that were still grinding away, not at full speed.

The two partners found a 24-hour coffee shop with a drive-through and got themselves coffee and then headed out of town. It was a 20-30-minute drive from Morristown to Newark, time enough to drink some coffee and let the caffeine do its work. Kateri had a large cup of coffee with a triple shot of espresso. She was willing to risk the jitters for the wake-up effect.

* * *

It was almost 1:45am by the time Clinton and Kateri pulled up at the Peroni’s home outside the city, avoiding the agents who had part of the road blocked off with crime scene tape. _Are those tire marks? Shootout with cops … Clark was probably burning rubber to beat it out of here._ The Peroni’s place was a small cabin-ish house in a nice-wooded area just north of the city. What peace there usually was in nature was shattered by the cops and agents swarming the area, lighting the property up like a proverbial Christmas tree with a combination of floodlights, flashlights, and car headlights.

_ERT must have gotten scrambled out of Newark._

_Bit shorter trip than for us from there to here_.

After half-an-hour since getting untimely roused, Kateri was feeling much more awake, especially with the application of very strong coffee, and her yawn as she climbed out of the SUV into the cool, night air was less face-breaking than earlier. _Thank goodness for cooler temps. It’ll help keep me awake._ Warm temps when she was tired were just sleepy-fying. _Think I broke English … again … at this hour, who cares?_ Between the cool air and the necessity of being on her feet, she had a much better chance of staying awake. _I hope_.

“How do you want to play this?” Kateri asked, setting her coffee cup down on the hood of the SUV for just long enough to fasten her leather jacket up to her chin and pull on gloves. The weather was quite nice during the day, but at close to 2am in the morning, it was kinda chilly, “What am I doing, and what are you doing?”

_Witnesses galore. Might have to pry stuff out of the cops if they clam up._

_Somethin’s fishy with this department._

_ERT and other Feebies here._

_Bloody h**l, there’s a lot to do_.

“I’ll deal with witness statements,” Clinton replied, pulling on his own jacket as he came around the front of the SUV, “You liaison with ERT, see what they’ve found.”

Kateri nodded and started to turn away, but Clinton touched her shoulder gently. His brow was furrowed. “You going to be okay, kid?”

 _With a little sleep later and a lot of coffee, I will_.

 _Don’t understand how I used to be able to survive all-nighters in college_ _... not that I ever pulled that many._

She nodded again and forced a wry smile, raising her coffee cup in a joking salute, “I’m just tired. Not sure how I ever survived all-nighters back in college. Coffee is going to be my drink of choice tomorrow … uh, … today. Might catch a cat-nap on the way back. I’ll be fine.”

Clinton squeezed her shoulder gently and then headed off towards a group of cops talking quietly amongst themselves, and Kateri turned away to go find the ERT team leader to get an update. She deemed it unlikely that ERT had found much yet, given they probably hadn’t beat Clinton and Kateri themselves to the scene by much, but … _it never hurts to check. The one time I wait’d be the one time they’ve got somethin’ important already._

The next couple of hours were a blur, as Kateri crisscrossed the lawn, talking with group after group of agents, frantically scribbling notes on the notebook she had retrieved out of her backpack and periodically stopping to check in with or update Clinton. Once the information from ERT got long enough and complicated enough, she started writing things down, instead of trying to rely on her dull brain to keep track of it all.

Agents were taking crime-scene photos.

Agents were examining the tire marks of Clark’s car in the grass and the burned rubber marks on the street. Tire treads were an inexact science forensically, _but at this point any clues would be helpful._

Agents were collecting bullet fragments and shell casings, cataloging those and the trajectories of the bullets fired by the cops.

_Interesting and strange and rather hinky …_

_No signs this was a two-way gun battle …_

_Cops were throwing lead at Clark’s position._

_But no sign he returned fire._

_Case get strange and stranger._

That just didn't sit right with Kateri.

Other agents were checking for blood spatters. Was Clark injured in the firefight?

ERT had a lot of work to do in less than ideal conditions—long grass and bad light. _Floodlights are not the cure for all lighting ills_. But they were meticulous and tireless.

And the more Kateri learned about the shooting and got more clues about the Newark PD and Peroni, the less the whole situation sat right with her.

 _Something is definitely rotten in Denmark_.

It was a little past 7am by the time Kateri and Clinton wrapped up their work at the crime scene. They grabbed a quick breakfast at a McDonalds to eat in the car and then got back on the road to Morristown. During the drive and over breakfast they compared and combined notes.

Something was off with the whole incident, they both had concluded, especially factoring in ERT’s preliminary findings.

The cops on Peroni’s detail had fired at least 20 rounds.

And Clark? No evidence he had fired a single shot, though no evidence he had been injured either.

_No one was hurt, even with all that lead. Small mercies._

Peroni and his detail were also being rather close-mouthed and uncooperative.

“20 shots. 20 shots,” Kateri exclaimed, letting her head thump back against the head-rest of her seat. _So much for a cat-nap. Maybe at the bus_. “He was badly outnumbered, so beating a hasty retreat was wise, but he didn’t even shoot back once. This doesn’t make sense.”

 _Not at all_.

_Not even covering fire to give you a few precious seconds._

_Why?_

* * *

With more traffic to deal with, it was just about 8 o’clock when Kateri and Clinton returned to the bus. There was an impromptu briefing alrady in progress as the two entered, and the others were gathered around the conference table.

“… away caught Clark driving away,” Kenny was saying, pointing out something to Jess on the tablet in his hand.

 _A camera I’m guessing. Probably from one of the lights nearby. That’ll be more helpful than those tire tracks_ , Kateri mused to herself, returning to her earlier seat, letting her bag down with a thump, and then slumping into her seat herself. _Bloody h**l, I’m tired. I need sleep … or more coffee._

When there was a pause in the conversation as Jess examined the video footage, Clinton began, “The cops guarding the house threw 20 plus bullets his way. No sign that they hit him.”

 _And that figure is still astounding_.

_More I think about it, the less it makes sense._

“20 shots?” Barnes asked, crossing her arms across her chest. She seemed surprised by the figure. “Who started the shooting?”

“Cops,” Clinton replied, “No evidence Clark returned fire.”

“If I didn’t know better,” Kenny mused, “I’d say they had orders to shoot on sight.”

 _The way this case is going, I’m not sure anything would surprise me anymore_.

Jess gave a heavy sigh and dropped his reading glasses unto the table. At that moment, Hana looked up from her tablet, which she had been studying intently ever since Kateri and Clinton had returned, and announced, “I found something. Look at this. It’s from the police dispatch records.” She rose from her seat and went across the aisle to one of the display screens.

With a sigh, Kateri pushed herself to her feet and approached the others to see what Hana had found.

“Right before Frank Kubiak, the paramedic, was dispatched to the raid here at 484 South Drummond,” Hana continued, gesturing at the screen on which was a street map of the Ironbound district of Newark was displayed, “Another ambulance was dispatched to 484 North Drummond here. That call was canceled.”

_Oh._

_Oh, my._

_Wow._

“That ambulance went to the wrong address,” Barnes put the pieces together in an instant, even as Kateri’s slower brain was chugging the facts out, “Happens all the time with north-south streets.” She noted, turning back towards Jess.

_Still._

_Major screw up._

_Somebody died._

_Always got to be careful, ‘specially with no-knock warrants._

“Cops raided the house on South Drummond hoping to find a meth lab, found nothing,” Jess spoke slowly, almost thinking aloud. His gaze was fixed on the map. “I wonder what’s on North Drummond.

_Explains the disappearing meth lab._

* * *

Jess, Clinton, and Barnes soon departed for Newark to check out 484 North Drummond and its history, but Kateri elected to stay behind, for once forgoing to go with her partner, pleading the need for at least a short cat-nap if she were going to be of any use later in the day. “I’m not much good for watching your back or doing anything else,” she had explained to Clinton, “when I’m half asleep on my feet.”

Realizing that she was likely to sleep through an alarm on her phone … _yes, I’m that tired right now, coffee or not_ … she asked Kenny to wake her up in two hours … _or earlier if I’m needed_ , went into the bunk area, pulled off her boots, climbed up to the top bunk, and was almost instantly asleep.

“Hey, Kat,” Kenny’s voice roused her from sleep sometime later, “Time to wake up.”

Kateri rubbed her eyes quickly and rolled onto her side so she could look down over the edge of the bunk at Kenny, just in time to catch his final words, “Lunch’s here.”

_Wait?_

_What??_

_Lunch?_ Kateri thought muzzily. It had been about 8:30am when she laid down for a cat-nap, and Kenny had said he’d wake her in two hours. _Lunch at 10:30am_. _I know we got an early start, but …_ Her watch read 12:30pm. Kateri rubbed her eyes quickly, not believing her own sight for a moment. “Thought you said you’d wake me in two hours?” She asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

 _I think I said two hours_.

_I’m sure I did._

“I did,” Kenny replied with a shrug and a slightly sheepish smile, “but you were dead on your feet, Hana and I caught naps while you and Clint were gone, and we could manage fine without you so …”

 _You let me sleep_.

“Thanks,” Kateri said, a smile sweeping away the previous look of slight annoyance on her face. She scrambled down from the bunk carefully. After a four-hour nap, she didn’t feel totally rested by any stretch of the imagination, but … _I feel less like a walking zombie_.

“Sure,” Kenny replied, stepping back outside the curtain, “There’s fresh coffee in the pot … fresh-ish ... kinda, and news once you’re wake enough to hear it.”

_News?_

_Coffee first._ Fresh or not, she'd take it.

 _Then news_.

Kateri nodded, “Be there in a minute.”

It was more like 5 minutes by the time Kateri had her boots and jacket back on, got some coffee, and retook her seat after another quiet word of thanks for her two teammates letting her sleep. “Soo,” she drawled, after taking a large sip of quietly—it had cooled just enough since Kenny had made it that she could do so without scalding her mouth—“What happened this time?”

Hana looked up from her laptop, “Confirmation that the cops went to the wrong address. A lady living in a house adjacent to 484 North Drummond confirmed that the house went kablooey 2 years ago because the residents were cooking drugs in the basement. Since the dispatcher would have used the actual address in Newark’s PD database with the address from the tip, we know that Newark buried Clark’s complaint and their own mistakes to cover their own a**es, and Peroni’s been lying to us all along.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri’s eyebrows flew up, “Bloody h**l.” She shook her head, making a face as she took another sip of coffee, “Bloody, bloody h**l, Peroni’s dug himself a nice hole. Making false statements to federal agents, impeding a federal investigation. Could probably sic him with public endangerment considering his lying has put more people at risk because we didn’t know who Clark was going after all!”

Kenny snorted, popping up from his seat to distribute the lunch containers from the bag on the counter after the immediate distraction of the news, “Yep. Press conference re the whole mess’ in half-an-hour.”

* * *

The press conference was held in front of the FBI Field Office in Newark. The building was visible in the background of the livestream feed Hana pulled up, and Jess and two other men Kateri didn’t know were also visible.

One of the other men, probably a big shot in the Newark office spoke first, “The FBI’s initial investigation found evidence that the Newark Police raided the wrong address resulting in the death of the homeowner along with evidence of a cover-up by supervisory officers. As a result, the FBI will conduct a full investigation into the Newark Police Department’s handling of the Ironbound Raid. I’ll now turn this over to Special Agent Jess LaCroix, who conducted the initial investigation.”

_Pretty pickle Newark’s gotten itself into._

_Not going to win them any favor in the court of public opinion_ , Kateri noted to herself silently, settling back in her seat next to Kenny, as Jess stepped up to the podium.

“I’m addressing myself to former Newark police officer Gabriel Clark,” Jess began.

 _Okayyyyy_ , Kateri’s eyes widen slightly, _that’s one strategy I wasn’t expecting. Makes sense though_.

_I’d bet my next paycheck Clark’s watching this._

_Vindication that he was in the right … then_.

“Mr. Clark, I understand nobody listened,” Jess continued, his best patient, connecting negotiator voice on, “when you said the Newark Police Department was hiding something. Nobody listened when you said they lied.”

_Police, feds … we’re not above the law._

_‘Cause of the power we have, we have an even greater responsibility for how we use that power_.

_Spider Man was right._

“Well, everybody is listening now. We will find the truth,” Jess looked up, so he was starring directly into the news camera, “But I need you to turn yourself in. I need your testimony to make it right. Please call me.”

 _Bold play, boss_.

Now the question was: Would it work? Would Clark stop his rampage and actually turn himself in for the sake of vindicating himself and convicting the wrongdoers connected with the Ironbound Raid?

 _I guess we’ll see_.

* * *

Jess, Clinton, and Barnes returned to Morristown and the bus within two hours, and even by the time they returned, the press conference was already attracting big news on local news agency, a couple of big news agency, and all across social media.

“The investigation’s big news,” Barnes noted, turning away from her computer over which was plastered several news articles.”

“Trending heavily,” Hana tacked on.

“Editorials are piling on: ‘Are Vigilante Deaths the Price of Police Deception?’” Barnes added.

_In this case specifically or in general?_

“Isn’t this adorable?” Hana suddenly spoke up again, her voice dripping with sarcasm. What exactly she was looking at, Kateri had no idea since they were basically sitting on opposite ends of the bus, “Someone’s crowdfunding for Clark’s defense.”

_To get him a lawyer?_

_Bloody h**l, he’s going to need one._

_Deserves one, too, whatever his crimes, however bad_.

“If it convinces him to surrender,” Jess noted from his seat next to Hana, “I’ll take it.”

_True enough._

_Make our job easier if we don’t have to hunt him down_.

As Jess spoke, Kateri looked up again when her partner nudged her shoulder. She looked up, and not wanting to interrupt Jess, Clinton gestured to an article on his laptop screen: an article from the Newark Tribune, dated less than two weeks earlier, “Wrongful Death Suit Against Newark PD dismissed.”

 _Oh, boy_. She shoved her chair closer with one foot so she didn’t have to lean so far over and scanned the first few lines of the article. _Bloody h**l_.

“I think we just found what the catalyst for the first shooting,” said Clinton to her quietly.

“I’d say,” Kateri agreed, matching his pitch, finishing skimming the top half of the article, “Scroll down, would you?” Clinton did so, and she finished reading the whole thing. “Bloody h**l” Was her only response.

Clinton snorted and scooted his chair back so he could look down the bus, “Think I found what triggered Clark.” That got everyone’s attention, “The family of the homeowner who got killed? Their lawsuit got dismissed a week before Clark killed those troopers.”

Before anything could be said about the article, Kenny’s phone rang. “Crosby.” There was a moment’s pause. “It’s him.”

_Clark?!_

_Bloody h**l, boss’ appeal worked!_

_It worked … so far._

_Doesn’t mean he’s ready to come in_.

Contact was a very good first step, though.

Jess came down the bus with quick steps, and Kenny handed the phone over. There was a long pause while Kateri and the other slipped in ear-pieces so they could hear the phone call, and when Jess gave the high-sign, Kenny connected the call.

“This is Agent LaCroix. Who am I speaking to?” Jess began, as if he had not already been informed that Clark was on the line.

 _Now to get him talking and keep him talking_. Kenny had already returned to his seat and was starting the process to trace the call. She could see the program running on his computer from where she was standing.

“Office Clark,” the reply came instantly, and Kateri heard Clark’s voice for the first time. He sounded young to her, very young, “Good job turning over the rock, Agent LaCroix. Wrong address, that was a new one on me.”

_Welllll, if you’d done some digging, instead of shooting people …_

“It won’t add up to anything without your testimony,” Jess replied.

“Wow,” Clark drawled, a hint of sarcasm entering his tone, “You’ve got more faith in the system than I do. Listen, I have a message for you.”

 _Oh, dear_.

“Stop looking for me,” Clark finished.

_Yea, like that’s going to happen._

_You’re on the Most Wanted List._

_The only reasons we stop are (A) if you’re dead, or (B) if you’re in custody_.

“You know I can’t do that,” Jess responded without missing a beat, “But I’ll do everything in my power you get a fair hearing, and I can promise you the satisfaction of seeing the people who wronged you pay for their crimes.”

 _Who knows, maybe you’ll end up in adjoining cells in prison_.

“I’m not that naïve,” Clark countered pointedly, “You are promising things that you can’t deliver.” _Eh, not necessarily_ , _we all know a few people, have a bit of pull here and there,_ “In your own way, you’re corrupt.” _Seriously?!_ “I like my way better.” _You like murdering people better, taking justice into your own hands_. _Of course, you do._

“You mean killing people?” Jess asked, as Kenny gave him the high-sign to keep Clark talking longer to give him time to track the call.

“It’s more honest. It’s straightforward,” Clark replied.

_Well, straightforward maybe._

_Things are more straightforward when you declare yourself judge, jury, and executioner._

_Things are a lot more honest when you delude yourself into thinking the world is black and white._ That kind of thinking was too simplistic for someone in their position—in law enforcement—someone with any life experience whatsoever. _Might think that when you’re a kid, but once you grow up …_

_But more honest … seriously? How is that more honest?_

“Truthful,” Jess went at the conversation via another angle, “the truth is important to you, right?”

“The further way you get from it,” Clark agreed, “the more complicated things get. Things are simple if you’re pure, good, and serious, a friend of justice, and resolute in your devotion to duty.”

_Maybe in theory … or a utopia … or in the world to come, but not in this world._

_That might be how life should be, but life isn’t always fair or just._

_Gotta do you best anyway, despite that_.

_You’re a cop for heaven’s sake, how can you not see that?_

_Life isn’t black and white._

Jess switched the phone from one ear to the other, giving it a peculiar look as he did so. “I know those words,” he said. _You do?_ “He also said, ‘The best revenge is to be unlike those who injured you.” _Uh, and who would “he” be? Never heard that before._ There was a long silence on the other end of the line, so Jess continued, “People are more likely to quote the Kardashians than Roman philosophers. How’d you come across Marcus Aurelius?”

 _Thought he was a Roman emperor?_ Kateri glanced across the aisle at Kenny, checking the process of the trace. _Not there yet_.

“I had a good coach,” Clark replied, “We’re done here.”

_Not yet. Not yet. Not yet!_

“Gabriel, wait,” Jess broke in, trying to give the trace any more seconds he could scrape together, “Let’s keep the line of communication open.”

“There’s nothing I want from you,” countered Clark.

“How about a front row seat to the Ironbound investigation?” Jess baited the trap carefully, “I’ll tell you what I know when I know it. You can watch the heads roll.”

There was another pause. “Fine,” Clark finally agreed, “but it won’t stop me.”

 _That would be too much to hope for_.

“One step at a time,” Jess replied, “I need a way to get in touch with you. You like Sudoku, right? You know the site SudokuStorm?”

“Sure.”

“There’s a message board,” continued Jess, “When I have news, I’ll post under Jessie Williams. You can call me.”

Without another word, there was a click, and the call ended. Kateri pulled her ear-piece from her ear and set it back down out of the way next to her computer in a spot where it was unlikely to get smushed.

Kenny looked up from his computer, “Got the burner number, but I couldn’t get the location.” _D**n_. “Good news is, we can trade where he bought the phone.” _Might help some_.

* * *

The store on West Maine in Newark where Clark’s burner phone had been bought thankfully had security cameras, and the store owner was quite happy to provide the team with the security footage. It took most of the afternoon with Kateri, Kenny, and Hana all pouring through the footage, but they found footage of Clark’s father buying not one, but FOUR, burner phones three days before Clark had walked into the diner and cut down Kubiak and the other two victims in cold blood.

_Rather suspicious timing!_

Kenny, Barnes, and Jess left for Newark soon thereafter. Clark’s father was an old, unpleasant man, who was quite too fond of his drink. Though he was not cooperative by any stretch of the imagination, it did become clear that he had gotten the phones specifically for his son. There was even a $100 bottle of booze on his counter that had been a gift from his soon, because he was ‘going away.’

_I can’t imagine spending 100 bucks on one bottle of booze!_

_I can buy groceries and eat well for a whole week on 100 bucks!!!_

The contrasts between Clark and his dad were numerous and striking, one of the main ones being that the team had found no alcohol whatsoever during the search of Clark’s place the first day.

But late in the day the conversation in the bus wrapped around back to the mysterious coach that Clark had mentioned. If he had had an influence in Clark’s life years earlier, did he still have an influence on him today? Could he be a way to track down Clark?

_Problem is: who is he and how do we find him?_

* * *

[1] For purposes of this story, I have shifted the time of the shooting forward a little bit. The security camera footage Kenny shows places the shooting at around 10:45pm.


	4. Friday, September 20: Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING: for discussions/descriptions of Clark's injuries ... burns.

Tracking down this new angle—any cop that actually supported Clark’s accusations—in a bid to find this mysterious ‘coach’ that Clark had mentioned on his phone call took up the couple of hours that were left of Thursday once dinner was dealt with. Yet, by the time crash-time came and, after such a long day and … _horrifically …_ early morning, everyone was ready to get some sleep, the team had a name: Ray Higgins, a former Newark police sergeant, now retired and living in Woodstown, New Jersey, a small borough two hours south of Morristown.

Getting in contact with Higgins, however, was going to have to wait until the next day, and by 11pm, computers were shut down, phones turned to vibrate, and beds were allotted for the night. As they had gotten the beds the previous night, Kateri and Kenny ended up in the floor, making their make-shift beds in the aisle on the far side of the door. It would be a few more minutes before everyone else settled down, but after a long day with little sleep and a lot of coffee, Kateri was asleep within a couple of minutes after lying down. The light wasn’t even off yet.

The wake-up call at 7am—Jess was feeling generous … _or’s just having pity on us after yesterday_ —and within half-an-hour, once breakfast was quickly made and then inhaled and coffee had been brewed, Jess and Barnes headed out for Woodstown to speak with Sergeant Higgins, leaving Kateri, Clinton, Hana, and Kenny at the bus to keep working … _not that we’re exactly abounding with leads at the moment._

_We know what happened with the Ironbound Raid._

_The tip-line’s helpful as it usually is, which means next to useless. The things people come up with! Or think they see!!_

_We’ve found the couch, and thus the mystery of that belt buckle’s been revealed._

_We don’t know where Clark is, and trying to figure out what he’s going to do next is just speculation._

_Bother it all_.

About ten AM, Clinton’s phone buzzed with a series of incoming texts, updates from Barnes on their meeting with Higgins. The former police sergeant had written a letter of support for Clark but had not been able to testify at the hearings in person because of his wife’s cancer treatments. _Understandable. Hard choice, but understandable. Family responsibilities like that have to come first._ His written testimony alone had not been enough to be convincing, leaving Higgins wondering what he could have done differently, whether he could have prevented Clark … _from going off the rails … that’s a question sure to torment you forever_. _The what-if rabbit trail does no one any good._

Higgins had known Clark since he was a kid. _Interesting._ The two families had lived down the street from each other. The two had first met when a young Clark had come to Higgins, the cop on the street and resident problem-solver, for help when he was planning to run away.

_From what the others said about Clark’s father, bloody h**l. I’d be bolting, too, if I could._

_A piece of work, he is, just like that foster father of mine._

_Not that I ever worked up the courage to bolt back then._

(A wave of grief passed over Kateri when her mind turned to _that_ particular foster family and her other foster siblings at that house, but before her mind could go down that rabbit trail, she forced herself to focus … on the case, on the present. Leave the past in the past.)

The two spent a lot of time thereafter, and Higgins had given Clark the belt-buckle when he turned sixteen. _What the h**l is a Sam Brown belt-buckle exactly? I thought a belt-buckle was a belt-buckle_. It had been Higgins who had taught Clark the importance of telling the truth.

“They’re hoping that Higgins can reason with Clark, get him to turn himself in. ETA noon or soon thereafter,” Clinton concluded, finishing summarizing the long strings of texts.

_Won’t have time for an update once Higgins arrives. Straight to business._

_Wouldn’t exactly be polite to brief us about him with him in the room. Not like we all could just switch languages like Clinton and I can._

_Can’t imagine being in his position … all the wondering … could you’ve made a difference … if, if, if, if … Ugh._

_This whole messed-up’s a good reminder of what Father Marks always says: sin has consequence, and not just for the one doin’ the sinnin’._

* * *

Sergeant Ray Higgins was an older gentleman, whose gray hair, grizzled face, and wearied look spoke to a long life, the experiences … _and trials and troubles of being a cop_ , and the stress of the current situation. _Clark was like a son to him, and now he’s gone so far off the deep end, can’t see light_. He was a pleasant man, though, with an approachable look that screamed friendly neighborhood cop. (Looking at him, Kateri could understand why a sacred, abused kid would go to him for help.) Barnes got Higgins settled at the conference table, while Jess gave Hana a message to post on the SudokuStorm message board to cue Clark that they needed to talk.

Within five minutes of the message going up, the phone the team was using to contact Clark began to buzz with an incoming call.

“Burner phone,” Kenny confirmed a split second later, “It’s him.” His computer and equipment were all set up to try to trace the call. _Maybe second time’s the charm … if Higgins can keep him talking long enough_. The team had failed the previous day to keep Clark talking long enough to trace him during the call after the press briefing, but hopefully the personal connection between Higgins and Clark would facilitate keeping the call going longer than Jess had managed.

Kateri, who was sitting on the floor, picked up her earpiece from its position next to her coffee cup, which she had tucked out of kick range next to her hip, and slipped it back into her ear, as Jess pushed himself to his feet from his nearby seat on the floor, saying, “You’re up, Mr. Higgins.”

There were only two seats at the table, Higgins had one and Clinton the other, and only two desks, which Barnes and Kenny were occupying as they worked, so Hana, Jess, and Kateri had all settled on the floor earlier to wait for Clark to get the message. _I really wish this bus were laid out differently some days._ There were more chairs at the other desks on the other end of the bus, but the space was too crowded around the table for them all to squeeze in with chairs. _And since we don’t want to just stand and stand and stand, the floor it is_.

Higgins took a deep breath and then opened the phone and pressed it to his ear, “Hello.”

“Ray,” Clark’s voice came through loud and clear, “I got a message to call you.” For the moment, he sounded calm.

 _We’ll see how long that lasts_.

“Thank you for calling,” Higgins replied. He had the calm, soothing tone of voice that would have made a hostage negotiator proud, “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“I didn’t call you before,” Clark replied, “because I wanted to keep you out of this, but if anyone can understand what I’m doing, you can.”

 _Because he taught you to make truth the highest thing._ Kateri pulled her legs up to her chest quickly, as Jess started to pace around the table, to give him room to pass without risking tripping over her. _Kinda crunched for space, boss. Could you not do that?_

 _Clark’s taken a good principle and ran with it a h**l of a lot too far_.

“Gabe, I know it comes from a good place,” Higgins responded, obviously choosing his words carefully, _Gotta keep him talking. Don’t want to antagonize him so that he ends the call_ , “but it’s not right.” _Very not right._

 _Newark PD majorly screwed up, but killing all those people … bloody h**l_. Kateri craned her neck up to see if she could get a glimpse of Kenny’s screen from her position behind him and off to his right. _Nope. Can’t see for his shoulder_. Her neck began to cramp with the awkward angle, and she hurriedly straightened. _Ow, ow. Don’t do that_.

“I don’t want to see you hurt. I couldn’t take that,” Higgins continued to try to reason with Clark, “Please, Gabe, stop all this. Turn yourself in.”

_For all of our sakes, listen to him!_

“Don’t you see what they did to me,” Clark countered, “They lied about me. They lied about everything.” There was a noise in the background, as if something heavy was being shifted.

_They lied, and now you’re murdering people …_

_They deserve to be brought to justice, but you’re appointing yourself judge, jury, and executioner._

“Truth is important,” Higgins replied, “but you are taking this too far.”

“No,” Clark replied forcefully, “They took it too far. They ruined me. They ruined it with the lease. They ruined my chance of having a family.”

_With the lease? Seriously?_

_Not everything bad that’s happened in your life since that d**n raid can be placed on the shoulders of the Newark PD, for heaven’s sake!_

“Please, Gabe, I talked to Agent Lacroix. He said if you turn yourself in …”

Clark cut Higgins off mid-sentence, “Agent LaCroix?! He says ‘bend so you don’t break.’”

Jess froze in his tracks at that statement, and Kateri’s eyes flashed over to him, wondering at his sudden spot, wondering what those words indicated. _Said to whom? When? I don’t remember Jess saying that, not to us_.

“But you keep bending,” Clark continued, rant unabated, “and one day, everything you believe in, everything you stand for breaks,” _Not necessarily_ , “You tell Agent LaCroix he can’t protect everyone.” And with that, Clark ended the call abruptly.

“He hung up,” said Kenny.

Ear pieces were removed, and Higgins sat the phone down on the table with a clunk and buried his head in his hands, “Oh my G*d, what have I done?”

_Tried to help a kid. Tried to teach him, guide him. You cared about him._

_Not your fault he went off the rails anyway._

_Not your fault he took your teaching and ran with it too far_.

“It’s not your fault,” Jess responded.

“Clark’s right,” Barnes admitted, “We can’t protect everyone.”

_We can bloody well try, though._

Jess gave a heavy sigh, starring at the table as if he could bore a hole through it with nothing but his gaze. Kateri reached around and up to place her coffee cup on the ledge behind her head and then clambered to her feet.

“What he starts, he finishes,” Kenny noted, “Just like that baby crib.”

“And how many more people have to die, before he’s finished?” Kateri wondered aloud.

_Already four dead._

_How many more does he want to die?_

“We have another problem,” Jess noted, “Someone inside the Newark PD is talking to Clark.” _Bloody h**l._ “‘Bend so you don’t break,’ I never told Clark that, but I did tell Lieutenant Peroni.” _Double bloody h**l_.

The question that lingered in Kateri’s mind, however, was why. Why would Peroni of all people be talking to Clark? Peroni had signed off on the raid. Peroni had a hand in things going south for Clark. Peroni seemed to be on Clark’s hit-list given Clark’s appearance at his place the other night.

_So why the h**l would Peroni be talking to Clark?_

That was a mystery that had to be solved, so giving Mr. Higgins over to the care of another FBI agent who would take him home, the team gathered coats and bags and coffee cup and headed out to Newark. It was time to have yet another chat with Lieutenant Peroni.

* * *

Lunch was picked up on the way out of town and eaten in route to Newark. When the team arrived at the precinct, they found Lieutenant Peroni already in big trouble, presently mid-meeting with Chief Whitlock. (What exactly Whitlock was chief of in the Newark PD hierarchy, Kateri had no idea. _Too many people are Chief of something._ She just knew he wasn’t the Police Commissioner).

The team was allowed to interrupt the meeting, and Jess wasted no time getting down to business, “‘Bend so you don’t break,’ I told you that, and Clark repeated it to me word for word. Explain that to me.”

Peroni began to shake his head, as if he were about to try to find some way of wiggling out of the mess that he had gotten himself into. Chief Whitlock, however, was not in a patient mood. “Spill it, Peroni,” he ordered gruffly.

After a second, Peroni admitted, “I sent an email after Agent LaCroix left to Lieutenant DeSantis in the 10th.”

Kateri, who was standing between Clinton and Kenny behind Peroni, couldn’t see the disgraced lieutenant’s face, but she had a feeling that it would be like pulling proverbial hen’s teeth to get anything out of Peroni if it weren’t for Chief Whitlock’s presence.

_And speaking of him …_

“Show them the emails,” Whitlock ordered.

“It wasn’t exactly complimentary,” noted Peroni.

_Why am I not surprised?_

“I’ll work through it with my therapist,” Jess replied dryly, making Kateri bite her lip hard to keep from laughing. He made a gimmee gesture with one hand, “Let’s see it.”

Peroni pulled his cellphone from his pocket, unlocked it and brought up the email under discussion, and then passed the phone across to Jess.

“The feds are big-footing it. The guy they sent, he enlightened me with his FBI wisdom, ‘Bend so you don’t break.’ I’d like to see him bend with that 2-by-4 he’s got stuck up his b*t,’” Jess paused for a second and then added, “I’d like to see that, too.”

_Seriously, Peroni?_

Jess pulled off his reading glasses and turned to the chief, “What about this DeSantis?”

“He never worked with Clark,” was the reply, “No relationship there.”

_So, what’s the relationship between Peroni and this guy?_

_Why’s Peroni going griping to him?_

Kenny got a puzzled, thoughtful look on his face for a moment and then stepped over toward Jess. “You mind?” He asked, extended his hand for Peroni’s phone.

“Of course.”

Kenny stepped over towards the other table that took up a considerable amount of floor space in the chief’s office and set down his phone and Peroni’s phone on the table. He then went fishing for some piece of tech in his pockets. Finding that, he then started tapping buttons, doing something on one of the phones. All eyes had turned toward the table, and a few seconds later, there was a very nasty sounding alert noise.

 _Don’t like the sound of that_.

“You’ve got malware on your phone,” Kenny announced. _Well, that explains how Clark knew_. “Clark’s been reading your emails and your texts. Your computer’s probably infected, too.”

“That’s how he’s been keeping tabs on your department,” noted Jess, coming over to perch on the edge of the table.

Kenny sat down at the table. “It’ll take a minute to disinfect,” he said, probably to Jess, maybe to Peroni.

Before Kenny could began, Jess stopped him hastily, “Wait, wait, wait.” _What are you thinking, boss?_ “We don’t know who Clark’s next target is, but maybe we could steer him toward a target we do know.”

_If he’s willing to deviate from his hit list …_

* * *

The team’s best link to Clark was Higgins, his former mentor and father-figure of sorts. The two of them had once been close, which hopefully would mean that a rightly worded email that would get to Clark through Peroni’s hacked email, purportedly sent by Higgins, would give Clark the necessary impetus into calling for a meeting. And thus, a new plan was formed on the fly during the two-hour car ride down to Morristown.

_Will Clark fall for it … even with one of Kenny’s email chains?_

_Will it convince him that Higgins implied that he didn’t believe him by only sending that written letter of support?_

_Will he actually believe it?_

_He’s seeing betrayal around every corner so …_

The team arrived at Higgins’ house mid-afternoon. The former sergeant was willing to go along with the plan, so Kenny set to work. For lack of anything better to do while Kenny did his tech thing, Kateri found a non-occupied spot of wall to lean against and started to go through the texts, emails, and voicemails that had been clogging up her phone and accumulating over last few days.

 _Not exactly like I’ve had time to be going through things_.

As usual, there was a good amount of junk: ads she wasn’t interested in; promotions from online stores she had brought like one thing _ages ago, and yet they’re still trying to send me these things_ ; random spammers trying to infect her devices, _and no, I don’t believe I’m in trouble with the IRS or that some random person from some random place wants to give me money if I help them_ ; her old university begging for money … _again, and if you want donations, talk to someone with a bigger salary than me_.

There were also automated reminders from her Google Calendar of bills coming due soon. _Yes, yes, I know. My credit card bill’s due in a week, and my rent’s coming up soon, too_. There was always a bill to pay. There was always something.

Aside from that, there were official emails from upstairs, a text from one of her CIs asking for a non-urgent meeting when possible, a random voicemail on her personal phone about … _getting my carpets steam-cleaned, what the h**l???_

“What was that?” Hana’s sudden question drew Kateri’s attention away from the depths of her inbox. The tech genius was standing at Kenny’s elbow peering at the email he was writing, “‘Running, Gabriel’s only making it worse.’”

“What’s wrong with that?” Asked Kenny.

“Syntax,” Hana replied, “Subject, verb, object. Running isn’t the subject. Gabriel is the subject. ‘Gabriel’s making it worse by running.” _I’m not the one to correct you on the English grammar, but grammar’s not the highest thing in mind when you’re writing an email in someone else’s voice. You’ve got write like them, quirks and potentially bad grammar and all_. “Isn’t that how you’d say it, Mr. Higgins?”

Mr. Higgins shrugged, “I guess so.”

_Who’s going to disagree with Hana when she’s on a roll?_

Kenny looked up, met Kateri’s eyes for a moment, and rolled his eyes. “Somewhere your English teacher is pumping her fist, ‘Yeah!’” he said with accompanying hand gesture.

“See, that was proper syntax.”

_Wellll, yessssss, but …._

Kateri considered speaking up, but not knowing exactly how Mr. Higgins wrote, despite his verbal agreement a moment before, … _I’d have to read a lot of his work to imitate him_ , she decided discretion was the better part of wisdom and kept quiet. She returned the majority of her attention to her phone, leaving one ear open to the continuing discussions in the room.

“I never lied to Gabe,” Mr. Higgins noted quietly to Jess who was sitting on the couch, “I don’t feel good about doing it now.”

_Can’t blame you, but we need to stop him before he hurts or, worse, kills anyone else._

_You’re our best shot_.

“I understand, Ray,” Jess answered, leaning forward, “but it’s a lie that might save lives, including his.”

Before Higgins could reply, Kenny announced that he had finished the email. Everyone gathered around and Barnes had approved the draft, Kenny copied in the email chain, which contained the explanation for what exactly ‘Higgins’ had done that he was concerned about Clark’s reaction to if that something came to life, and sent the email.

“Let’s hope the fish bites,” was Jess’ only comment.

* * *

The fish did bite, and within fifteen minutes, Mr. Higgins’ phone began to buzz with an incoming phone. Ear pieces were switched on so everyone could hear the call, and at a nod from Jess, Mr. Higgins’ answered it. “Hello,” he said.

“It’s me,” Clark replied.

 _Not sure if his voice sounds angry or resigned or exhausted or what_.

“Are you alright, Gabe?”

“No,” answered Clark, “This whole thing, I’m tired. I thought about what you said, about taking things too far.” His voice grew stronger, “I’ll surrender, but only to you. Someplace I choose. Head east on Route 40. I’ll call you.”

 _I don’t buy that for a second_. From the look on his face, neither did Clinton. _That tone, those words, are all wrong. Based on his previous reactions … reading those emails should’ve set him off_.

“It’s a trap,” Barnes’ thoughts were running along the same line, “He read the email. He’s not surrendering.”

“He’s forcing our hand,” added Clinton pointedly, “Not knowing the meeting place means no time to set backup.”

_Definitely a trap._

_But on this short notice, if we want to have a chance at catching Clark, what choice do we have?_

“We need a body double for Ray,” was Jess’ order.

_On this short notice?_

Hana started to go for her phone, but Higgins objected, “No, I’m going. I can do this. I was a cop. Who knows what he’ll do if I’m not there?” _True enough_. “Please, Gabe’s like my son.”

After a long moment of silence, Jess assented, “You’ll ride with me in your car.” He added to Clinton, “Send up a bird. Make sure they follow us.”

* * *

Jess and Higgins left first in Higgins’ car with the others following in two separate SUVs. The three cars were connected by comms, and Kateri had maps up on her tablet with GPS running, tracking Jess’ phone in case traffic separated the cars. She let the silence linger as her partner drove, mulling over the case and her own unease about the upcoming meet.

She was no strange to risky meets, and she could have given a running list of the many ways meeting with Clark on his turf … _well, ground of his choosing_ … could go wrong, potentially deadly wrong.

They had been driving for about twenty minutes when Jess’s voice came over comms, “We’re exiting, but follow cars, keep going.”

Kateri watched as Jess pulled off Route 40 at the exit for Buck Road. Clinton, following Barnes, kept on going until they reached the next exit, and then both cars got off the highway and circled back to start following Jess and Higgins at a distance. After about another five or ten minutes of winding streets, Jess came on comms again, “Farmhouse on Willow Grove Road.”

The drive waiting for Clark to tell them where to meet had been long enough to scramble a SWAT team down from the Philly Field Office, and by the time Clinton and Sheryll pulled the SUVs to a stop down the street from the farmhouse, SWAT’s van was just pulling up on the other side of the street … to everyone’s relief.

It was bad enough that this meet was on ground of Clark’s choosing and that Higgins wasn’t following orders … as everyone could hear since Jess’ com was set on vox … _but at least we have backup now_. Small mercies.

Clark, from what of his words were audible through Jess’ comm, was, as expected, very angry and quite upset, incensed by what was, for all appearances, his mentor’s betrayal of the very principles that he had taught Clark.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, LaCroix,” Clark was shouting as the team hurried into positions. Clinton was on sniper support, so Kateri formed up on Barnes’ left a stone’s throw and still within eye shot of her partner’s position.

“Listen to me, Gabriel,” Jess, who was still sheltering behind Higgins’ van, though Higgins was open and exposed and _probably in Jess’ line-of-fire … bloody, bloody h**l_ , called back, “Peroni, all those cops who covered up what happened at the raid, they’re all going down.”

 _The sooner the better_.

“In position,” Clinton’s quiet voice came over comms, “Glass on Clark on your signal.” It was a message for Jess, who though he could not verbally respond made the appropriate physical signal with his right foot, as Kateri had during the Starbuck’s hostage situation the previous September, to indicate that he copied the update.

“It’s true, Gabe,” said Higgins, “Everyone’s going to know you were right.”

“Where does that leave me?” Clark’s question was an honest one. He truly did seem to be almost at the end of his rope.

 _As a whistle-blower with an honest grudge against Newark who just went about dealing with it the bloody opposite way he should have and is now going to get charged with several murders along with, probably, a laundry list of other crimes_.

Kateri shifted a step to her left, trying to get a clear sight picture on Clark without having tree branches in the way or Higgins too close to her line-of-fire.

“You didn’t break,” Jess continue to negotiate, “You stayed true to yourself. Not many people can say that. It takes courage.”

In the lingering silence as those words sunk in, Jess, still behind the shelter of the car, holstered his gun— _boss, what now?_ —and pulled out something reflective from his pocket. It was the belt-buckle Higgins had given Clark, Kateri realized after a moment, and a split second later, Jess stepped out from behind cover, holding the belt-buckle up with one hand.

“Truth before all,” Jess shouted, stepping forward until he near enough to the porch where Clark was standing that he could toss the belt-buckle over, “You lived it.”

 _Just at a d**n high cost_.

Clark’s jaw worked. “I killed for it.”

 _Yea, you did_.

“It’s time to surrender, Gabriel,” Jess said.

“Please, Gabe,” Higgins added, “Don’t give them a reason to kill you.”

_Welllll, yes, please, but could you frame it a little more carefully?_

Yes, Clark was armed, but for now his pistol was still in its holster, but still …

 _Don’t send potential prods in the direction of an emotionally volatile subject_.

“Just give up,” continued Higgins, a weight of feeling in his voice, “I love you … like you were one of my own kids.”

“If you loved me,” shouted Gabriel, almost shaking in a flash of anger, “then why did you lie to me?”

 _To try to save your life_.

“I didn’t …”

Clark interrupted Higgins’ aborted explanation and steamrolled right on, “You taught me the foundational principle of my life: if I told the truth, good things would happen.” He threw his arms into the air. “Well, I told the truth, and look at me now. The truth destroyed my life.”

_Life’s not all sunshine and roses just ‘cause you do what’s morally right._

_Newark ruled against you, but everything else … most of it … is a hell of your own making_.

Clark gave a groan and jabbed one finger in the direction of his one-time mentor, “You set me up for failure.” _Seriously?_ He threw up his hands in the air, gave more ground. “I’m done.” He suddenly said, and one hand went back down toward his belt.

_He’s going …_

The tension on the scene instantly ratcheted up about twenty notches, and Jess drew his gun with a shouted order to Clark to not touch his gun. Clark, however, was not reaching for his gun but unlatching his gun belt. After ten interminably long seconds, Clark obeyed Jess’ commands to drop his belt but, instead of surrendering, turned on one heel and marched toward the front door of the house.

_What the h**l is he doing????_

Jess circled around the porch, keeping Clark covered, and Kateri with Barnes’ nod of permission circled back around towards Clinton’s position to help keep Jess and Higgins covered as Clark moved. _Bloody h**l, what is he doing?_

 _The buckle! He’s going for the buckle_.

“Put your hands on your head,” Jess ordered.

Clark moved to comply physically for a moment, but his words told a different story, “Now you watch. You look what you did to me.” In an instant, he whirled, rushed through the front door, and slammed it behind him.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then as Kateri reached her partner’s side, she saw orange flames burst into existence inside the house, and then Clark’s agonized screams followed.

“I’m done,” he had said … done with everything, done with life.

Suicide was his goal, but he’d picked a hard method.

Fire was a cleansing, purifying agent.

But … Kateri had burned herself with boiling-hot soup once and knew too well how terribly painful burns were.

Why someone would choose a slow and agonizing death by fire as opposed to a quick death with a bullet … _he’s got good aim_ … she had no idea and didn’t really want to know the answer either.

Clark’s screams were horrific and made Kateri’s skin crawl and stomach lurch even after only a few seconds of listening. In her mind, she ran down the list of medical supplies in the cars or in her pockets. _Gunshot wounds, bleeders, stab wounds, I can treat, … not this. Gonna need EMS up here fast, and pray they can get Clark to a hospital fast_. She had caught a glimpse of a human form, its upper half covered in flames. His injuries would be horrific and catastrophic.[1]

 _If he dies, it might be a mercy_.

Jess used one of the porch chairs to batter in a window to get inside to help Clark, and everyone dashed forward to assist. Potential covering fire wasn’t necessary anymore now that their only assailant was down.

Sheryll used the short-barreled shotgun to blow the lock off the main door, allowing the team to breach that way. By the time, they entered, Jess had Clark down on the floor and was finishing using his jacket to extinguish the flames. The scent of charred flesh was heavy inside, _God have mercy_ , and Clark’s faint groans were pitiful.

“Hurry up EMS now,” Hana shouted the order over comms, “Get a medivac.”

More jackets were added, and any lingering hints of flames or tails of smoke were fully extinguished. Kateri immediately went to Clark’s head, forced herself to not recoil or vomit at the severe burns and the almost-melted skin that was visible on his head and arms, and tried to check his breathing and pulse.

 _A miracle if he survives this_.

There was nothing Kateri could do to help Clark. Injuries of this type and magnitude were beyond her knowledge, but murmuring the Hail Mary on repeat, she monitored his breathing and pulse as best she could until EMS rushed in and then gratefully stepped outside into the semi-fresh air.

Even outside the scent of charred flesh and burning hair was stuck in her nostrils.

 _Bloody h**l. Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_.

She leaned her hands on her knees and took deep breaths, trying to slow the flips her stomach was doing. A presence appeared beside her, and a familiar hand rubbed her back.

“That was pretty bad,” said Clinton softly.

“God have mercy,” Kateri agreed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand the sight or smell of meat for a month.”

“Just breathe,” Clinton advised, “You’ll be alright.” If the sights and smells inside had bothered him— _how they couldn’t have …—_ he didn’t show it. Once Kateri straightened and felt a little less like she was going to puke her guts out, he guided her down to the end of the porch, and the two sat down beside Hana, who was studying something on her tablet. Kateri buried her face in her hands, but even then, the sight of that melted skin seemed embedded on the backs of her eyelids. _Bloody h**l, why do I have a feeling back to the shrink I’m going to go?_ A hand returned to rubbing her back.

“Are you okay?” Barnes asked Jess a few minutes later after EMS had stretchered Clark out and the ambulance had departed.

 _Bloody h**l, I knew there was something …_ Jess could’ve burned himself putting out the fires on Clark.

“Just a few singed hairs,” Jess responded to Kateri’s relief.

“I don’t know who gets credit for this,” Hana suddenly announced in a very well-timed distraction, “but the city of Newark just settled with the family of the guy who was killed in the raid.”

“Good for them,” noted Kenny, “Too bad it took four lives to get it done.”

“Truth is a bitch,” was Clinton’s apt summation. 

_That it is_.

* * *

[1] Considering the amount of flames Clark was covered with and Hana’s call for a medivac, his visible injuries as EMS stretcher him out are … frankly … ridiculous, I think, though I’m not a doctor. Clark looked more like he had rolled in ash than been burned. If anyone watches Chicago Fire on NBC, I think Clark’s injuries would probably be closer to Jimmy Borrelli in _A Real Wake-Up Call._ (Just make sure you have a strong stomach if you go look.)


End file.
